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Books  and  Readung 


— BY — 

BROTHER  AZARIAS 

OF  THE   BROTHERS  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  SCHOOLS 


THIRD  EDITION 

Revised  and  Enlarged 


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PREFACE. 


The  substance  of  the  present  Lecture  was  read  before 
the  Cathedral  Library  Reading  Circle  of  New  York  City, 
at  the  request  of  its  Director,  the  Rev.  Joseph  H. 
McMahon.  At  the  same  request  it  is  nov/  given  to  the 
public  in  book  form.  The  author  has  not  attempted 
within  the  limits  of  a  single  paper  to  cover  the  whole 
scope  of  the  subject;  but  the  few  general  rules  and 
principles  which  he  has  laid  down  may  be  extended,  in 
their  application,  to  any  number  of  subjects.  The  Lect- 
ure is  reprinted,  with  a  few  points  somewhat  more 
developed,  from  the  pages  of  the  Catholic  Woi'ld. 

In  this  Third  Edition  the  author  has  made  revisions 
and  additions  with  a  view  of  rendering  the  little  book 
less  unworthy  of  the  cordial  reception  it  met  with.  He 
has  sought  to  answer  a  few  more  questions  on  books 
and  reading.  If  he  has  dwelt  at  some  length  upon 
Wordsworth  and  Browning,  it  is  in  order  to  diminish  the 
difficulty  readers  find  in  grasping  the  meaning  and  im- 
portance of  these  poets. 

De  La  Salle  Institute,  New  York, 
December  20,  1890, 


y '   J  J    i  J }  >  1  ^^, ' . ' '  ' 


BOOKS  AND  READING. 
I. 

I  NEED  not  dwell  upon  the  advantages  that  are  to  be 
derived  from  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  books.  If 
you  have  made  a  few  choice  authors  your  bosom  friends, 
with  whom  you  seek  refuge  in  hours  of  anxiety  or 
trouble,  who  speak  to  you  words  of  comfort  when  you 
are  weighed  down  by  sorrow  or  annoyance,  who  are  a 
solace  and  a  recreation,  cheering  you  up  and  reminding 
you  of  the  better  and  higher  things  of  life,  no  words  of 
mine  can  help  you  to  hold  those  tried  and  true  friends 
in  greater  estimation  than  that  in  which  5^ou  now  hold 
them.  And  if,  on  the  other  hand,  books  were  to  you  no 
better  occupation  than  walking  or  riding,  a  mere  pas- 
time like  base-ball  or  lawn-tennis,  then  I  fear  you  could 
not  understand  any  words  of  praise  that  I  might  bestow 
upon  them,  and  the  eulogies  of  great  men,  which  I 
might  quote  for  you,  would  be  to  you  meaningless 
phrases.  Suffice  it  to  say  that,  after  the  grace  of  God 
flowing  to  us  through  the  channels  of  prayer  and  the 


•         •    ••    t       • « 


8  Books  and  Reading. 

sacraments,  I  know  no  greater  solace  to  the  soul  than  the 
soothing  words  of  a  good  book.  Indeed,  is  not  the  good 
book  itself  a  visible  grace  ?  How  often  has  not  God 
spoken  to  men  through  the  words  of  the  printed  or  the 
written  page?  Thus  did  Ke  speak  to  St.  Augustine 
through  the  random  reading  of  a  passage  in  the  New 
Testament  ;  thus  did  He  speak  to  St.  Ignatius  through 
the  almost  enforced  perusal  of  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  ; 
thus  has  He  spoken,  and  does  He  still  speak,  to  millions 
the  world  over  through  the  loving-tender  words  of  that 
low,  sweet  voice  of  humanity.  The  Imitation  of  Christ, 
And  so  I  will  take  it  for  granted  that  you  all  prize  books, 
and  accordingly  will  endeavor  to  read  you  a  leaf  out  of 
my  experience,  and  such  experience  of  others  as  occurs  to 
me,  as  to  the  best  manner  of  using  them,  with  the  hope 
that  out  of  it  all  you  may  be  enabled  to  glean  a  few 
practical  hints. 

II. 

We  are  told  that  "  to  the  making  of  books  there  is  no 
end  ; "  but  there  is  a  limit  to  every  man's  reading  ca- 
pacity. We  all  of  us  must  make  up  our  minds  that  we 
cannot  read  everything ;  that  the  longest  life,  most 
rigidly  economized,  can  compass  but  an  infinitesimal 
portion  of  this  world's  knowledge  ;  that  if,  in  order  to 
keep  our  intellect  from  starving,  we  would  store  up  some 
available  provision  therefor,  we  must  confine  ourselves 
to  a  selection  of  subjects,  small  in  number  and  limited 


The  Scholar  and  the  Desultory  Reader,  9 

in  range.  In  making  this  selection  we  should  consult 
both  our  present  mental  acquirements  and  our  daily  oc- 
cupations. 

It  is  evident  that  the  class  of  reading  suitable  for  a 
scholar  of  trained  mental  habits  is  not  the  class  of  read- 
ing that  will  interest  the  desultory  reader,  who  has 
picked  up  his  knowledge  here  and  there,  and  has  never 
disciplined  his  mind  into  habits  of  severe  thought. 
The  scholar  is  in  position  to  appreciate  the  great  clas- 
sics of  his  own  or  other  languages.  He  can  understand 
why  Shakspere  is  so  esteemed  ;  he  can  appreciate  the 
noble  grandeur  of  Milton  ;  he  is  prepared  to  be  thrilled 
by  the  classic  prose  of  an  Edmund  Burke  or  a  Cardinal 
Newman,  because  he  has  learned,  in  the  language  of 
Ruskin,  "  how  to  form  conceptions  of  proper  range  or 
grasp,  and  proper  dignity,  or  worthiness."  *  To  the 
desultory  reader  these  authors  are  dry  and  uninteresting; 
he  may  praise  them  because  it  is  the  fashion  to  commend 
them,  but  he  is  apt  to  take  more  pleasure  in  the  last 
sensational  report  of  his  daily  paper,  or  in  the  last  penny 
dreadful  that  has  been  issued.  Only  that  which  takes 
momentary  hold  upon  his  imagination  can  fix  his  atten- 
tion. He  may  have  attained  the  years  of  manhood,  but 
so  far  as  reading  is  concerned  his  mind  is  still  the  mind 
of  the  child  who  reads  his  book  only  till  he  has  found 
out  the  meaning  of  the  pictures  it  contains.  Well  and 
aptly  hath  it  been  said  :     "  Desultory  reading  is  indeed 

*  The  Eagle's  Nest,  lect.  i,  §  8. 


10  Books  and  Reading. 


very  mischievous,  by  fostering  habits  of  loose,  discon- 
tinuous thought,  by  turning  the  memory  into  a  common 
sewer  for  rubbish  of  all  sorts  to  float  through,  and  by 
relaxing  the  power  of  attention,  which  of  all  our  facul- 
ties most  needs  care,  and  is  most  improved  by  it.  But 
a  well-regulated  course  of  study  will  no  more  weaken 
the  mind  than  hard  exercise  will  weaken  the  body  ;  nor 
will  a  strong  understanding  be  weighed  down  by  its 
knowledge,  any  more  than  an  oak  is  by  its  leaves,  or 
than  Samson  was  by  his  locks."  *  Therefore  we  may 
broadly  say,  that  according  to  the  various  stages  of 
one's  mental  development  will  one  require  different 
grades  of  reading.  No  general  list  of  books  will  cover 
every  individual  case.  What  is  one  man's  meat  may  be 
another  man's  poison.  Let  each  one  ask  himself,  in 
taking  up  a  book,  what  special  benefit  he  expects  to 
derive  from  its  perusal. 

Say  to  yourself  :  "  Why  do  I  take  up  this  book  ?  Is 
it  simply  that  I  may  pass  the  time,  or  be  amused,  or  rest 
my  weary,  over- wrought  brain  .^  "  Be  it  so.  Rest  and 
amusement  are  legitimate  objects,  even  as  the  theatre 
and  the  opera  are  legitimate.  Amuse  yourself  with 
your  book.  Is  the  book  abounding  in  wit  or  humor  ? 
All  the  better.  Only  see  to  it  that  the  wit  instils  no 
poison,  that  it  leaves  no  sting,  that  you  do  not  rise  from 
its  play  of  shafts  with  bitterness  in  your  thoughts  or 
callousness  in  your  heart.     See  to  it  that  the  humor  be 

♦  Guesses  at  Truth,  xt.  156. 


Purposes  in  Reading.  1 1 

genuine  and  kindly,  and  calculated  to  broaden  and  deep- 
en your  sympathies  with  your  fellow- man.  See  to  it 
that  after  having  read  the  book  you  can  look  with 
greater  charity  upon  human  frailty,  speak  more  kindly 
of  your  neighbor,  and  hold  his  shortcomings  in  greater 
tolerance: 

"  For,  although  the  distance  be 
Great  twixt  wise  and  witless  words, 
Still,  'tis  from  two  different  chords 
Springs  the  sweetest  harmony."  * 

Such  is  the  sympathizing  humor  of  Hood  ;  such  the 
innocent  charm  of  the  Pickwick  Papers  j  such  the  harm- 
less laughter  created  by  that  most  genial  of  humorists, 
Artemus  Ward,  who  always  respected  whatever  man 
holds  sacred  in  life,  and  whom  God  favored  with  the 
grace  of  the  sacraments  of  the  Church  on  his  death-bed  ; 
such  the  happy  thoughts  of  the  present  editor  of  Pwic/i, 
Mr.  Burnand,  who  has  also  been  blessed  with  the  grace 
of  conversion  to  the  Catholic  Faith.  In  these  and  such 
like  books  you  sought  amusement,  and  beneath  their 
genial  rays  you  found  moral  and  intellectual  growth. 

Again,  you  say  to  yourself:  *'  Is  it  instruction  and 
self-improvement  that  I  am  seeking  ?  Then  must  I  read 
with  greater  care.  I  must  verify  facts;  I  must  consult 
the  authorities  quoted;  I  must  compare  the  other  ver- 
sions of  the  same  event;  in  all  my  studies  I  must  have 
in  view  to  get  at  the  solid  basis  of  truth  underlying  the 

♦  Calderon  :  La  Cena  de  Balthazar,  Sc.  I.,  transl.  by  D.  F.  MacCarthy. 


12  Books  and  Reading. 

statements."  Here  you  have  undertaken  more  serious 
work.  Much  depends  upon  the  nature  of  the  work,  and 
much  upon  the  manner  in  which  you  propose  to  carry  it 
out.  If  you  would  succeed,  your  subject  must  be  such 
as  not  to  lead  you  beyond  your  depth.  Suppose  you 
would  study  the  history  of  some  epoch  or  some  decisive 
event  in  any  of  the  great  civilized  nations  of  Europe. 
Let  me  here  remark  that  the  best  way  to  study  the  whole 
history  of  any  people  is  first  to  master  a  single  epoch,  to 
which  you  can  afterwards  lead  up  all  other  epochs  and 
events.  Select  the  epoch  and  the  country  for  which  you 
have  most  leaning.  Procure  some  outline  history  of  the 
period.  This  will  give  you  a  bird's-eye  view  of  your 
subject.  In  the  course  of  your  reading  make  out  a  list 
of  the  historical  authors  who  have  dealt  with  the  period 
fully  and  in  detail.  Prepare  also  a  list  of  the  biograph- 
ies of  the  great  men  who  figured  in  the  making  of  the 
epoch;  any  good  cyclopaedia  will  supply  you  with  the 
standard  works  on  both  topics.  Then  consult  with 
some  well-informed  friend  as  to  the  comparative  merits  of 
these  works;  choose  those  the  most  reliable,  and  read 
them  with  care.  Read  such  of  the  lighter  literature  of 
the  day  as  attempts  to  reconstruct  the  period  you  are 
studying.  Tabulate  for  frequent  reference  names  of 
persons  and  places,  dates  and  events.  Afterwards  take 
up  the  leading  literary  characters  that  grace  the  epoch, 
and  go  through  such  of  their  works  as  you  may  relish, 
especially  such  as  throw  light  upon  the  spirit  and  tone 


Method  in  Historical  Reading,  13 

of  their  time.  In  Macaulay's  celebrated  third  chapter 
you  have  an  instance  of  how  all  kinds  of  printed  matter 
can  be  made  to  give  forth  the  spirit  that  lurks  beneath 
the  cold  type.  *  You  have  now  become  familiar  with 
your  epoch,  you  are  at  home  in  it,  you  need  no  further 
incentive  to  study  other  periods,  you  are  naturally  led 
on  to  the  study  of  men  and  of  events  preceding  and  fol- 
lowing. And  let  me  add  that  one  such  course  of  study, 
thoroughly  and  conscientiously  made  according  to  your 
lights  and  your  ability,  will  be  in  itself  a  great  stride  in 
your  education  and  of  far  more  worth  to  you  than  any 
amount  of  general  and  desultory  reading,  f 

But  in  all  your  historical  readings  hold  fast  by  leading 
dates  and  keep  your  maps  before  you.  Remember  that 
history  without  chronology  and  geography  is  not  history; 
it  is  merely  a  romance  of  the  land  of  Nowhere.  The 
elements  of  all  history  are  person,  place,  and  time,  and 
these  three  are  correlative.  A  man's  actions  are  not 
altogether  determined  by  his  environment,  but  they  re- 
ceive tone  and  color  therefrom.  Place  him  elsewhere, 
and  the  outcome  of  his  career  will  be  in  many  respects 
different.  Let  him  live  at  another  time,  imbibing  the 
spirit  of  another  age,  and  he  will  act  in  another  manner. 
From  a  practical  study  and  application  of  this  principle, 
writers  of  history  acquire  what  I  would  call  the  historical 

♦  History  of  England,  pp.  178-275. 

t  I  am  glad  to  state  that  this,  in  all  its  details,  is  the  method  followed  by  the 
Director  of  the  Reading  Circle  of  the  Cathedral,  New  York.     See  Appendix. 


14  Books  and  Reading. 

instinct,  by  which  they  are  enabled  to  determine,  when 
confronted  with  a  variety  of  versions  concerning  a  per- 
son or  an  event,  which  version  is  most  in  conformity 
with  the  times,  the  place,  and  the  known  character  of 
the  person  discussed.  It  is  this  historical  instinct,  ac- 
quired by  life-long,  patient  toil,  that  makes  our  own  John 
Gilmary  Shea  so  familiar  with  the  Catholic  records 
of  America.  It  is  this  historical  instinct  that  enabled 
Niebuhr,  with  but  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  clue  to 
guide  him,  to  go  back  of  the  myth  and  lay  hands  on 
the  solid  fact,  and  hold  it  up  to  us  divested  of  the  poetic 
fancies  in  which  it  was  wrapped,  and  thus  "teach  us 
far  more  about  the  Romans  than  they  ever  knew  about 
themselves."  *  It  is  this  historical  instinct  that  leads 
the  historian,  groping  in  the  dark,  to  the  sentence,  the 
phrase,  the  word  that  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon  the 
persons  or  events  he  would  portray.  It  becomes  for 
him  a  second  sight.  But  while  you  may  not  attain  this 
degree  of  perfection,  still,  by  following  at  a  distance,  you 
may  learn  how  to  handle  authorities,  how  to  appreciate 
events  at  their  true  worth,  and  how  to  give  facts  their 
real  significance.  In  like  manner  may  you  by  careful 
study  make  any  one  author  your  own,  and  hold  him  as  a 
centre  around  which  to  group  his  contemporaries,  and  a 
criterion  by  which  to  judge  others  working  on  the  same 
lines  of  thought. 

*  Hare  :    Guesses  at  TrtUh,  p.  x6o. 


The  Books  to  Read,  1 5 

III. 

But  there  are  authors  and  authors,  and  I  would  not 
have  you  make  any  author  your  bosom  friend  who  were 
not  worthy  of  your  confidence.  He  should  be  a  man 
with  a  purpose,  a  man  who  speaks  out  because  he  can- 
not remain  silent,  a  man  who  has  a  mission  to  sing  or 
say  to  us  noble  things  that  have  hitherto  remained  un- 
said, or  that  have  been  only  partly  uttered,  till  he  grasps 
their  whole  meaning  and  gives  them  their  full-rounded 
expression.  And  that  expression  should  make  for  good. 
This  is  the  good  book  whereof  Milton  speaketh:  ''A 
good  book  is  the  precious  life-blood  of  a  master-spirit, 
embalmed  and  treasured  up  on  purpose  to  a  life  beyond 
life."  *  The  definition  is  not  overstated.  Men  write 
their  years,  their  life-blood,  their  very  souls  into  their 
master-pieces.  You  receive  their  ideas  through  the 
rhythm  of  well-polished  sentences,  and  you  see  nothing  of 
the  patient  toil  and  drudgery  that  those  sentences  conceal. 

We  may  lay  it  down  as  a  general  rule  that  the 
smoother  the  polish  and  the  more  rhythmic  the  sen- 
tence, the  more  severe  has  been  the  study  back  of  it  all. 
Name  not  Shakspere  as  an  exception.  With  the  different 
editions  of  Hamlet — both  quarto  and  folio — before  me, 
each  varying  in  the  text,  and  with  Montaigne's  Essais 
and  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  from  each  of  which  he  drew 
largely,  I  find  traces  of  great  painstaking  in  the  produc- 
tion  of    that   wonderful    master-piece.      The    burning 

*  Prose  writings  :     Areopagitica,  p.  104. 


1 6  Books  and  Reading. 


eloquence  of  Demosthenes  that  would  set  Greece  aflame 
smelled  of  the  lamp.  What  is  there  in  all  literature 
more  polished  than  the  magnificent  sixth  book  of  Vir- 
gil's yEneidl  One  would  think  that  he  had  painted  the 
infernal  regions  with  colors  drawn  exclusively  from  his 
own  imagination.  Not  so,  however.  Virgil  was  only 
repeating  in  every  detail  the  traditions  of  Roman  my- 
thology and  the  teachings  of  those  who  went  before 
him.  There  are  whole  lines  from  his  great  predecessor, 
Ennius;  there  are  passages  that  are  almost  literal  trans- 
lations from  some  of  Plato's  sublimest  sentences.  Upon 
the  foundation  thus  constructed  does  Dante  build  up 
that  noble  cathedral  of  Catholic  song,  that  sublimest 
poem  ever  inspired  by  religion  and  patriotism  —  the 
Divina  Commedia.  It  were  a  long  story  to  detail  to  you 
the  infinite  pains,  the  life-long  labor,  wrought  into  that 
mystic  work.  Edmund  Burke  revises  the  proof-sheets 
of  his  Reflections  on  the  Revolution  in  France  twelve  times 
before  he  is  satisfied  with  its  polish.  Gibbon  strikes  the 
right  keynote  of  his  great  history  only  after  he  has 
written  and  re-written  his  first  chapter  seven  times.  We 
are  told  that  George  Eliot  read  and  consulted  no  less 
than  one  thousand  volumes  while  writing  Daniel  D era nda. 
And  yet,  who  would  think,  when  reading  that  bright  and 
laughing  letter  of  the  young  artist  from  Rome,  or  trac- 
ing the  evolution  of  the  character  of  Gwendoline,  that 
the  writer  had  looked  beyond  the  blank  sheet  on  which 
she  recorded  her  impressions  ?     A  few  years  ago  Cardi- 


The  Labor  of  Book-making.  1 7 

nal  Newman  wrote  an  essay  on  Inspiration.  He  was  at 
once  attacked.  In  tiiis  manner  does  the  Cardinal 
rebuke  his  opponent's  over-haste:  " 'Tis  a  pity  he  did 
not  take  more  than  a  short  month  for  reading,  ponder- 
ing, writing,  and  printing.  Had  he  not  been  in  a  hurry 
to  pubhsh,  he  would  have  made  a  better  article.  I 
took  above  a  twelvemonth  for  mine.  Thus  I  account 
for  some  of  the  professor's  unnecessary  remarks."  * 
Could  anything  be  more  scathing  ?  I  sometimes  won- 
der to  what  extent  the  professor  has  taken  the  lesson  to 
heart.  Here  is  one  of  our  most  graceful  and  polished 
writers,  his  venerable  years  enshrined  in  a  halo  of 
reverence,  taking  over  a  twelvemonth  to  write  a  short 
magazine  article  upon  a  subject  that  has  occupied  his 
life-thoughts.  Think  of  the  patient  thought  and  re- 
search. And  when  we  are  reading  any  great  master- 
piece, and  we  begin  to  fmd  it  wearisome,  let  us  not  give 
it  up  ;  rather  let  us  brace  ourselves  anew  to  the  task 
with  the  reflection  of  the  years  of  drudgery  the  master 
gave  to  the  gathering  together  of  the  materials  of  this 
great  work,  and  then  the  unlimited  patience  with  which 
he  toiled  at  those  materials,  transmuting  them  in  his 
mind  till  they  came  forth  polished  and  stamped  with  his 
personality,  and  made  current  coin  for  all  time.  The 
effort  will  endear  the  book  to  us  all  the  more,  and  im- 
print it  on  our  memory  all  the  better. 

*  What  is  of  Obligation  for  a  Caiholic  to  believe  concerning  the  Inspiration    of 
the  Canonical  Scriptures,  p.  7. 


Books  and  Reading. 


IV. 

Should  you  ask  me  how  to  read,  I  can  do  little  more 
than  repeat  rules  that  I  have  learned  elsewhere,  many  of 
which  you  already  know.  Bacon  seems  to  me  to  have 
summed  up  all  the  rules  for  reading  in  his  own  terse  style. 
'*  Read  not,"  he  says,  "  to  contradict  and  confute,  nor  to 
believe  and  take  for  granted,  nor  to  find  talk  and  dis- 
course, but  to  weigh  and  consider.  Some  books  are  to 
be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed,  and  some  few  to  be 
chewed  and  digested:  that  is,  some  books  are  to  be  read 
only  in  parts  ;  others  to  be  read,  but  not  curiously;*  and 
some  few  to  be  read  wholly,  and  with  diligence  and 
attention."!  This  says  everything.  I  am  only  putting 
into  other  words  the  counsel  of  the  great  sage  when  I 
repeat  to  you  : 

I,  Read  with  attention.  Attention  is  the  fundamental 
condition  of  all  reading,  of  all  stud)^  of  all  work  properly 
done.  What  is  its  nature  ?  It  is  a  concentration  of  the 
mind  upon  an  object  of  thought  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others.  It  is  a  habit,  and,  like  all  habits,  to  be  acquired 
only  by  practice.  One  may  live  in  a  state  of  habitual 
distraction  as  well  as  in  a  state  of  habitual  attentiveness. 
The  habit  of  perfect  attention — the  habit  that  we  all  of 
us  should  seek  to  acquire  as  best  befitting  social  beings 
who  cannot  shirk  the  claims  and  requirements  of  social 
life — is  the  attention  that  can,  without  strain  or  effort, 
break  off  from  one  subject,   pass  on  to  another,  and 

*  That  is,  attentively.  t  -fijjaj'J—"  Of  Studies." 


How  to  Cultivate  Attention.  19 

resume  at  once  the  thread  of  one's  readings  or  thoughts. 
How  may  such  an  attention  be  acquired  ?  Where  the 
reading-matter  is  congenial  to  the  reader  there  is  no 
difficulty;  the  attention  becomes  naturally  and  uncon- 
sciously absorbed  in  the  subject.  But  where  one  is 
unaccustomed  to  reading,  or  where  the  reading-matter 
has  no  special  interest,  it  is  with  an  effort  that  one  learns 
to  control  one's  attention.  I  conceive  a  reader  may  in 
the  following  manner  acquire  this  control  : 

(i)  Set  aside  daily,  according  to  leisure  or  occupation, 
a  given  portion  of  time  for  reading.  The  daily  recurrence 
to  a  subject  at  precisely  the  same  hour  may  be  irksome,  but 
it  soon  creates  a  habit  which  finally  becomes  a  pleasure. 

(2)  Keep  up  the  practice  of  using  that  time  for  the 
one  purpose  and  nothing  else.  This  induces  the  habit 
all  the  sooner,  and  renders  it  all  the  more  profitable. 
The  principle  of  recurrence  pervades  nature.  The  sea- 
sons make  their  rounds  within  their  appointed  times. 
Thegrasses  spring  up,  and  ripen,  and  decay,  and  in  their 
pre-ordained  seasons  become  renewed.  It  is  the  rhythmic 
recurrence  of  sound  that  makes  poetry  cling  so  easily  to 
the  memory.  It  is  the  rhythmic  recurrence  of  a  primary 
note  that  gives  tone  to  the  melody.  It  is  the  rhythmic  re- 
currence of  wave-vibration — for  such  is  light— that  tints 
the  flower,  and  reveals  the  beauties  of  earth,  and  air, 
and  starry  sky.  See  the  waterfall  glint  in  the  sun's  rays, 
there  also  is  rhythmic  wave-motion.  In  a  recurrence  of 
good  or  bad  actions  is  the  soul  made  beautiful  or  ugly, 


20  Books  and  Reading. 

for  virtue  and  vice  are  habits.  And  so  it  is  in  the  daily- 
recurrence  of  attention  concentrated  upon  thoughtful 
reading  that  intellectual  labor  is  rendered  fruitful. 

(3)  Focus  the  attention  during  the  time  of  reading  in 
such  manner  that  the  mind  becomes  wholly  occupied 
with  the  reading  matter.  Better  is  a  daily  reading  of 
half  an  hour  made  with  sustained  attention  than  a  reading 
of  two  hours  made  in  an  indolent,  half-dreamy  fashion. 

(4)  Read  with  method.  Absence  of  method  in  one's 
reading  is  a  source  of  great  distraction.  Give  yourself 
the  habit  while  reading  of  making  a  mental  catalogue  of 
your  impressions.  Distinguish  between  the  statements 
that  are  doubtful,  and  probable,  and  certain  ;  between  those 
that  are  of  opinion,  and  credence,  and  presumption.  You 
will  find  this  practice  of  great  aid  in  sustaining  atten- 
tion. 

(5)  When,  in  spite  of  all  these  precautions,  you  begin 
to  find  your  thoughts  wandering  away  from  the  page  up- 
on which  your  eyes  are  set,  leave  the  book  aside  for  the 
time  being,  and  take  up  the  reading  of  another  subject 
that  is  more  likely  to  fix  your  attention.  We  are  told 
that  Mr.  Gladstone — that  grand  old  man  of  such  great 
physical  endurance,  and  such  wonderful  intellectual  activ- 
ity— is  wont  to  keep  three  distinct  volumes  on  three 
distinct  subjects  open  before  him,  and  when  he  finds  at- 
tention beginning  to  flag  in  the  reading  of  one,  he  im- 
mediately turns  to  another.  The  practice  is  admirable 
for  the  trained  intellect.     The  change  brings  rest  to  the 


How  to  Cultivate  Attention.  21 

mind  and  keeps  it  from  growing  wearied.  Men  who  are 
constant  brain-workers  generally  keep  before  them  a 
favorite  volume,  in  which  they  from  time  to  time  refresh 
their  minds  when  fatigued,  or  when  they  find  the  train 
of  thought  they  would  pursue  exhausted.  I  have  known 
men  to  find  mental  stimulation  in  the  study  of  a  Greek 
or  Sanskrit  verb;  others,  again,  are  wont  to  discipline 
their  minds  into  activity  by  going  over  a  theorem  in  ge- 
ometry or  calculus.  Mere  revery  or  listlessness  is  a 
hopeless  scattering  of  brain-force.  It  were  well  for  us 
all  to  understand  that  mental  inaction  is  not  resting;  it 
is  rusting.  It  is  a  corrosion  of  the  faculties,  and  renders 
them  less  efficient  for  future  action.  In  this  respect,  the 
law  of  intellectual,  is  different  from  that  of  physical, 
repose.  Our  soul  is  spirit,  and  must  needs  be  active; 
and  a  wholesome,  moderate,  well-directed  activity  best 
satisfies  the  laws  of  our  being.  Brain-work  has  never 
injured  anybody.  It  is  excitement,  or  taking  trouble 
to  heart,  or  disregarding  the  primary  hygienic  conditions 
of  our  physical  nature,  that  breaks  down  the  health,  and 
we  are  too  prone  to  attribute  it  to  mental  exertion.* 
In  the  natural  course  of  things  every  great  author  and 
great  thinker  should  live  to  a  ripe  old  age:  witness  the 
length  of  days  to  which  have  lived,  or  are   still  living, 

♦  Since  writing  the  above  I  find  the  same  view  maintained  as  regards  insanity. 
Mr.  W.  H.  Burnham  writes  :  "  Griesinger,  the  gret^t  German  alienist,  says  that 
purely  intellectual  over-pressure  seldom  leads  to  insanity,  but  among  the  most  fre- 
quent causes  is  over-straui  of  the  emotions."  (Scribner's  Magazine,  March.  .1889., 
P-  314-) 


22  Books  and  Reading, 


Kant  and  Ranke  and  Doellinger ;  Gladstone  and  Man- 
ning and  Newman  ;  Brownson  and  Bancroft  and  Presi- 
dent Woolsey  and  Dr.  McCosh.  These  men  have  all 
known  what  intense  brain-work  means. 

II.  Another  rule  is  to  take  notes  while  reading.  The 
very  fact  of  reading  with  pen  or  pencil  in  hand  stimu- 
lates thought.  Remember  that  reading  is  useful  only 
in  proportion  as  it  aids  our  intellectual  development  ;  it 
aids  intellectual  development  only  in  proportion  as  it 
supplies  food  for  reflection  ;  and  that  portion  of  one's 
reading  alone  avails  which  the  mind  has  been  enabled 
to  assimilate  to  itself,  and  make  its  own  by  meditation. 
Now,  note-taking  with  running  comments  is  a  great 
means  of  making  clear  to  one's  self  how  much  one  does 
or  does  not  know  about  the  subject-matter  of  one's  read- 
ing. Hence  its  value.  But  note-taking  may  be  over- 
estimated, and  it  actually  becomes  so  when  it  is  reduced 
to  a  mere  mechanical  copying  and  cataloguing  of  ex- 
tracts, without  any  effort  to  make  these  extracts  the  seeds 
from  which  to  cultivate  native  thoughts. 

III.  Consult  your  dictionary.  Do  not  give  yourself  the 
habit  of  passing  over  words  of  whose  scope  and  meaning 
you  are  ignorant.  Such  habit  begets  a  slovenly  mode  of 
thinking.  The  ablest  writers  and  thinkers  can  but  ill 
dispense  with  their  dictionary.  It  is  a  friend  that  steads 
them  in  many  a  mental  perplexity.  All  assimilation  of 
thought  is  a  process  of  translation.  Every  intellect  has 
a  certain  limited  vocabulary  of  words  in  which  it  thinks, 


Reading  with  a  Purpose.  23 

and  it  fully  grasps  an  idea  only  when  it  has  translated  that 
idea  into  its  own  familiar  forms  of  expression.  If  a  great 
aim  of  reading  be  mental  growth,  and  if  mental  growth 
depend  upon  accuracy  of  conception,  then  it  is  of  pri- 
mary importance  to  know,  beyond  mere  guess-work,  the 
precise  meaning  of  the  words  one  reads. 

IV.  Read  with  a  purpose.  Lay  out  for  yourself  a 
definite  object,  and  let  all  your  reading  converge  upon 
that  object  until  your  purpose  is  attained.  This  is  the 
only  reading  that  will  be  remembered.  Books  perused  in 
an  aimless  manner  are  soon  forgotten  ;  indeed,  are  sel- 
dom remembered.  The  mind  becomes  a  mere  passive 
instrument,  receiving  one  set  of  impressions,  which  are  in 
a  little  while  obliterated  by  another  set  no  less  tempo- 
rary. Now  this  is  an  abuse.  Reason,  imagination,  all 
the  faculties  of  man's  intellect,  were  given  him  that  he 
might  exercise  them  and  develop  them  to  the  full  com.- 
pass  of  their  activity.  He  who  lets  them  lie  dormant  is 
in  the  position  of  him  who  buried  the  one  talent  that  he 
had  been  entrusted  with.  Dante  very  justly  places  all 
such,  though  living  without  blame  and  without  praise,  in 
the  first  circle  of  hell.  *  Madam  Mohl,  that  oddest  of 
little  women,  who  for  so  many  years  ruled  over  all  that 
was  distinguished  socially  or  politically  in  Paris,  in  her  im- 
patience of  gossiping  women  once  asked:  "  Why  don't 
they  talk  about  interesting  things  ?  Why  don't  they  use 
their  brains  ?  .  .  .  Everybody  but  a  born  idiot  has  brains 

♦  Inferno,  canto  iii.,  31-51. 


24  Books  and  Reading. 

enough  not  to  be  a  fool.  Why  don't  they  exercise  their 
brains  as  they  do  their  fingers  and  their  legs,  sewing  and 
playing,  and  dancing  ?  Wiiy  don't  they  read  ?  "  *  Of 
those  who  read  to  no  purpose  might  we  also  ask:  Why 
don't  they  use  their  brains  ?  Furthermore,  reading  with 
a  purpose  helps  to  economize  time  and  brain-energy. 
We  soon  learn  that  there  are  many  things  we  had  better 
leave  unread,  as  so  many  distractions  from  the  main 
line  of  our  readings.  Then  we  begin  to  find  out  that, 
after  we  know  all  that  a  book  has  to  tell  us  bearing 
directly  on  our  subject,  we  would  be  losing  time  in  read- 
ing farther,  and  so  we  put  the  book  aside.  With  prac- 
tice we  soon  discover  the  short  cuts  to  our  subject,  and 
save  ourselves  the  reading  of  all  irrelevant  matters.  We 
become  practised  in  the  rare  art  of  knowing  when  and 
what  not  to  read. 

But  there  are  works  which  to  be  properly  appreciated 
cannot  be  partially  read.  They  are  all  works  of  art — 
whether  of  prosaic  art,  as  the  novel,  or  of  poetic  art,  as 
the  epic  or  lyric  or  dramatic  poem.  Such  works  must  be 
read  as  a  complete  whole.  As  well  may  you  mutilate 
a  picture  or  a  statue  or  a  musical  sonata  as  skip  portions 
of  a  great  poem  or  a  standard  novel.  Every  work  of 
art  is  one — breathing  one  ideal,  speaking  one  thought. 
You  cannot  reduce  the  thought  to  fragments;  you  can- 
not break  up  the  ideal.  This  is  a  primary  law  of 
criticism,   and   every   reader  should   take   it   to   heart. 

♦  Madam  Mohl,  by  Kathleen  O'Meara,  p.  133. 


M^fhory,  25 


Critics  have  compared  Milton  with  Dante;  but  in  what 
manner?  They  have  taken  one-third — a  mere  frag- 
ment— of  Dante's  great  poem — the  Inferno — and  set  it 
beside  the  whole  of  the  Paradise  Lost.  These  critics 
never  understood  Dante.  His  poem  is  one.  Its  parts 
cannot  be  separated.  The  Paradiso  contains  the  solution 
to  the  Purgatorio  and  the  Inferno.  It  is  simply  and 
literally  the  keystone  to  the  arch.  So  also  a  work  of 
genuine  art  is  not  to  be  run  through  post-haste  and  then 
set  aside  for  ever  afterwards.  If  you  would  grasp  the 
underlying  idea  you  should  read  the  work  slowly,  read 
it  thoughtfully,  read  it  frequently.  A  piece  of  com- 
position so  read  and  so  mastered  is  to  you  a  great 
gain.  It  is  an  element  in  the  formation  of  true  culture. 
You  are  thereby  learning  how  to  penetrate  the  veil  of 
appearances  and  to  look  essences  full  in  the  face. 

You  complain  of  the  impossibility  of  remembering  all 
you  read.  That  comes  of  your  reading  over-hastily  or 
of  your  reading  aimlessly.  When  you  read  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  take  notes,  and  make  running  comments,  and 
mark  passages  or  chapters  which  you  re-read,  your 
memory  will  be  retentive  of  all  essential  points.* 

*  Since  writing:  the  above  I  find  the  ibUowing  pertinent  and  practical  remarks 
from  the  pen  of  Dr.  Thomas  Hill,  late  president  of  Harvard  :  "  The  books  which 
have  helped  me  most,  and  which  I  believe  would  be  most  valuable  to  any  reader, 
are  those  which  are  very  clear  and  intelligible  in  their  style,  but  which,  nevertheless, 
i-om  dieir  brgeness  and  breadth  of  view  and  from  6ieir  range  of  thought,  lying 
somewhat  above  the  commonplace,  demand  close  attention  and  patient  study  in  the 
reader.  The  book  is  none  the  worse,  but  rather  the  better,  if  it  has  come  down  to 
us,  with  a  h^h  reputation,  for  Campbell's  period  of  sixty  years,  or  even  ibr  many 


26  Books  and  Reading. 

A  memory  equally  stroyg  upon  every  subject  is  rare. 
I  have  met  only  one  instance  approaching  such  a 
memory  in  all  my  experience.  It  is  that  of  a  great 
churchman,  who  stands  foremost  as  a  theologian,  a 
canonist,  a  scholar,  and  a  critic.  He  is  familiar  with 
several  of  the  oriental  languages;  he  speaks  or  reads 
nearly  all  the  modern  European  tongues;  his  memory  for 
facts  and  names  and  figures  is  marvelous.  I  have  known 
him,  in  published  articles,  to  quote  chapter  and  page 
of  authorities  without  consulting  his  books  ;  I  have 
heard  him  recite  from  Italian  poets  for  hours  at  a  time 
and  even  give  the  variations  of  different  editions  that 
he  may  not  have  looked  into  for  years.  *  This  venerable 
prelate  is  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  Catholic  Church  in 
America.  *  But  this  is  an  exceptional  instance  of  won- 
derful memory.  For  the  large  majority  of  us  memory 
is  simply  confirmed  experience  in  regard  to  topics  with 
which  we  have  grown  familiar.  According  as  our  mind 
becomes  active  on  any  subject  will  our  memory  grasp 
the  facts  and  ideas,  and  even  the  remote  incidents, 
connected   with   the   subject.     Cardinal    Newman   says 

times  sixty.  Read  such  a  book  through  once  in  order  to  get  a  general  view  of  the 
aim  and  the  method  of  its  author.  Read  it  a  second  time  more  carefully,  in  order 
deliberately  to  weigh  the  value  of  its  parts.  Read  the  more  valuable  parts  a  third 
time,  with  meditation  and  reflection,  that  you  may  digest  and  assimilate  what 
nutriment  is  there.  Intellectually  man  is  ruminant,  and  he  gets  little  permanent 
benefit  from  literary  browsing  unless  he  thus  afterwards  chews  the  cud."  ("  Books 
that  have  mace  Me,"  from  the  Forum,  p.  90.) 

*  I  need  scarcely  remark  that  the  venerable  prelaw*'  here  alluded  to  was  Mons'g- 
nor  Corcoran,  wbose  loss  we  now  deplore. 


The  Art  of  Forgetting.  27 

truly  :  "  In  real  fact  memory,  as  a  talent,  is  not 
one  indivisible  faculty,  but  a  power  of  retaining  and  re- 
calling the  past  in  this  or  that  department  of  our  exper- 
ience, not  in  any  whatever.  Two  memories  which 
are  both  specially  retentive  may  also  be  incommensu- 
rate  There  are  a  hundred  memories,  as  there 

are  a  hundred  virtues."  *  And  in  this  connection  I 
would  lay  down  a  rule  not  given  in  your  hand-books  of 
reading. 

V.  Learn  the  art  of  forgetting.  It  is  a  great  blessing 
and  a  rare  art,  that  of  knowing  what  to  forget.  It  is 
an  art  not  to  be  applied  indiscriminately.  There  are 
many  things  in  books — even  in  books  not  professedly 
bad — that  are  to  be  ignored,  just  as  there  are  many 
occurrences  in  daily  life  that  remain  unmentioned.  It  is 
by  a  strong  exercise  of  will-power  that  reason  learns  to 
overlook,  or  to  reject  from  memory  and  imagination — 
from  imagination,  at  all  events — a  certain  objectionable 
sentence  or  paragraph  in  a  book,  or  certain  scenes  and 
incidents  that  are  neither  beautiful,  nor  edifying,  nor 
entertaining,  nor  instructive.  Frequently  the  nobler 
passages  so  fill  the  mind  that  they  leave  no  room  for 
these  accidentally  unworthy  ones.  You  stand  before 
the  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  in  Pans.  You  admire  its 
vast  proportions,  its  wonderful  construction,  its  mys- 
terious, overawing  impression  of  prayerfulness.  There 
recurs  to  your  mind  the  magnificent  chapter  of  Victor 

♦  Grammar  of  Assent,  sixth  London  edition,  pp.  340,  341. 


28  Books  and  Reading. 

Hugo's  novel — Notre  Dame  de  ^^m— translating  its 
manifold  beauties  into  words  only  little  less  expressive 
than  its  carved  stones.  Before  its  grandeur,  the  vision 
of  physical  grotesqueness  and  moral  monstrosity,  which 
the  great  word-artist  would  associate  with  it,  drops  out  and 
fades  away,  with  as  much  ease  as  the  remembrance  of 
the  toads  and  slimy  things  that  find  sustenance  in  the 
moisture  dripping  at  the  base  of  its  walls.  You  enter, 
and  the  sublimity  of  the  structure  is  forgotten  in  a 
view  sublimer  still.  It  is  that  of  a  sea  of  upturned 
faces  filling  its  vast  structure,  many  of  whom  you  recog- 
nize as  leaders  in  the  social,  literary,  and  political  world, 
hanging  spell-bound  on  the  utterances  of  a  white- 
robed  Dominican,  *  as  from  yonder  historic  pulpit  he 
announces  to  them  in  irresistible  eloquence  the  great 
truths  of  Christian  doctrine.  You  leave,  the  echo  of  his 
thrilling  words  ringing  in  your  ears.  The  impression 
remains,  never  to  be  effaced.  Beneath  the  magic  touch 
of  such  impressions  the  soul  expands.  Whatever  is 
good  and  holy  and  pure  and  noble,  in  word  or 
work,  is  the  legitimate  object  of  man's  intellectual 
energies.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  elevating  influence  of 
all  true  art.  And  here  is  where  Victor  Hugo  fails. 
He  mistakes  bathos  for  sublimity.  In  the  trail  of 
his  genius  has  followed  a  school  of  writers  who 
wallow   in    filth,  admire   ugliness,  sympathize   with   de- 

*  I   had  the  great  pleasure  of  hearing   Pere  Monsabri  in   several  of  his  Lenten 
sermons,  in  1887,  under  the  circumstances  here  described. 


The  Art  of  Forgettifig.  29 

pravity,  and  love  horrors.  And  their  readers  ?  Their 
inteliigence  has  strayed  from  the  true  ideal — the 
ideal  that  lives — to  a  standard  ever  descending  and  to 
the  cultivation  of  a  taste  that  revels  in  the  realism  of 
Zola,  whose  beastliness  had  grown  so  revolting  that  his 
own  disciples  and  admirers,  in  self-respect,  were  com- 
pelled to  enter  public  protest  against  one  of  his  latest 
books. 

This  art  of  forgetting  is  not  as  difficult  as  you  would 
suppose.  Boys  of  good  sense,  who  are  indiscriminate 
readers  and  great  devourers  of  books,  practise  it  uncon- 
sciously. But  as  reason  develops  it  takes  a  strong  act  of 
the  will  to  render  the  brain  impervious  to  certain  classes 
of  impressions.  Hypnotism  has  proven  how  an  external 
agent  is  capable  of  lulling  certain  nerve-centres  of  voli- 
tion into  torpor,  and  of  causing  the  mind  to  become  con- 
centrated upon  a  single  idea  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
others,  no  matter  how  forcibly  they  may  be  pressed  upon 
the  attention,  and  to  look  at  it  in  the  manner  the  agent 
desires.  Now,  that  which  an  external  agent  can  so 
effectively  do,  the  will,  in  its  own  way,  can  be  trained  to 
achieve.  The  mind's  eye  may  be  rendered  blind  to  all 
else  than  the  subject-matter  it  is  surveying.  Biography 
is  filled  with  the  blunders  committed  by  great  thinkers 
— such  as  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Newton — when  in 
this  state  of  total  absorption  with  some  predominant 
thought.  Consider  the  great  will-power  Mr.  James 
Anthony  Froude  has  brought  to  bear  upon  the  distortion 


30  Books  and  Reading, 

of  history.  Note  the  facility  with  which  he  ignores  the 
virtues  of  Mary  Stuart;  see  the  perfections  he  finds  in 
Queen  Elizabeth;  and  there  is  that  **  great  blot  of  blood 
and  grease  on  the  history  of  England,"  *  Henry  VIII.; 
Mr.  Froude  can't  perceive  it;  it  is  to  his  mind  an  un- 
sullied page,  and  Henry  VIII.  a  humane  ruler  and  a  pro- 
found statesman.  In  like  spirit  can  Mr.  Froude  read  a 
quotation  until  it  begins  to  tell  against  his  preconceived 
notion,  drop  out  words  that  damage  the  view  he  would 
hold,  garble  sentences  to  suit  his  purposes,  and  play  such 
pranks  with  quotation-marks  as  to  make  him  the  laugh- 
ing-stock of  all  conscientious  historians.  That  which 
Froude  can  achieve  so  well,  simply  that  he  may  present 
an  historical  epoch  in  a  novel  light,  we  should  be  able 
to  accomplish  in  another  direction  with  the  higher  aim 
of  keeping  out  of  our  soul  intellectual  and  moral  poison. 
This  leads  us  to  another  rule. 

VI.  Be  honest  in  your  readings.  Cultivate  honesty  of 
judgment,  honesty  of  opinion,  honesty  of  expression,  so 
that  you  may  be  able  to  form  an  honest  estimate  of 
books.  A  book  is  commended  as  a  classic,  and  you  are 
unable  to  perceive  its  worth.  This  inability  may  arise 
from  two  causes:  either  you  are  not  adequately  educated 
up  to  the  point  of  being  able  to  appreciate  such  a  book, 
or  5^ou  have  grown  beyond  the  need  or  use  of  the  book. 
If  the  book  is  beyond  your  grasp,  do  not  attempt  to  read 
it;    put   it  aside,  and  in  the  meantime  read   up  other 

*  Dickens  :  Child's  History  of  England. 


Books  that  One  Outgrows. 


matters  in  which  you  will  find  greater  pleasure.  But  do 
not  lose  sight  of  the  book.  After  a  year  or  two  try  it 
again,  and  if  you  have  been  reading  to  some  purpose 
your  intellect  will  have  expanded  to  the  comprehension 
of  the  book  that  had  been  formerly  beyond  your  reach. 
We  all  of  us  will  find  profit  in  educating  ourselves  up  to 
a  full  appreciation  of  the  great  world-authors. 

Then  there  are  books  that  one  outgrows.  Every 
mind,  acting  in  its  normal  state,  passes  through  a  proc- 
ess of  development.  What  delights  the  child  may  be 
insipid  to  the  man.  The  books  of  our  youth  are  always 
pleasant  memories  to  us,  but  we  have  no  desire  to  spend 
our  manhood  hours  upon  them.  Other  books  and  other 
subjects,  more  befitting  our  riper  years,  absorb  our  at- 
tention. So  it  is  with  the  different  stages  of  a  people's 
existence.  Every  age  has  its  own  peculiar  wants  and 
its  own  standards  of  excellence.  Thus  it  not  infrequent- 
ly happens  that  books  which  were  a  revelation  to  our 
fathers  have  become  mere  commonplaces  to  us.  This 
may  arise  from  the  fact  that  the  thought  which  was 
novel  when  first  presented  to  the  previous  generation 
has  filtered  through  the  various  strata  of  society  till  it 
has  become  common  property  ;  we  have  grown  familiar 
with  it ;  it  no  longer  excites  the  enthusiasm  it  did  upon 
its  first  appearance.  The  book  has  done  its  work.  Our 
age  has  another  set  of  wants,  calling  for  another  set  of 
thoughts,  and  we  prize  more  highly  the  book  supplying 
:ocd  for  our  own  aspirations. 


32  Books  and  Reading. 

Such  I  take  to  be  the  position  of  Ruskin.  He  v\ras  the 
prophet  of  beauty  of  design  in  furniture  and  architecture. 
He  taught  those  of  his  generation  how  to  weave  beauty 
about  the  home — whether  it  be  a  cottage  or  a  palace — 
and  the  things  in  every-day  use.  He  showed  them  how 
health  and  cheerfulness  might  be  promoted  by  drawing 
the  curtain  aside  in  the  dim  or  darkened  room  and  let- 
ting in  a  ray  of  sunshine.  He  called  their  attention  to 
the  beauty  of  the  passing  cloud,  and  the  blue  sky,  and 
the  green  fields,  and  the» way-side  flower.  He  awakened 
in  them  the  almost  dormant  sense  of  beauty.  And  his 
lesson  has  been  well  learned.  The  present  generation 
knows  the  value  of  observation,  and  is  trained  to  take  in 
at  a  glance  whatever  it  perceives  to  be  striking  or  beauti- 
ful. His  books,  so  cleverly  written,  so  intensely  earnest, 
were  a  revelation  to  his  day  and  generation,  but  they  no 
longer  evoke  the  enthusiasm  that  greeted  their  first  ap- 
pearance. Not  that  we  cannot  still  find  much  to  learn 
from  Ruskin.  He  has  nurtured  his  own  mind  upon  high 
thought,  and  he  would  have  all  other  minds  equally  nur- 
tured. He  holds  up  noble  ideals  of  life.  He  would  see 
men  and  women  harboring  elevating  thoughts,  pure  of 
heart,  honest  in  their  convictions,  unselfish  in  their  pur- 
suits, each  extending  a  helping  hand,  each  living  for  the 
highest  and  best.  And  these  are  lessons  for  all  ages. 
He  hates  shams  with  the  honest  soul  of  Dr.  Johnson  ; 
he  scorns  the  worship  of  getting-on  to  the  exclusion  cf 
the  free  exercise  of  the  higher  faculties  with  the  un- 


Ruskin  and  Carlyle.  33 

fettered  soul  of  Epictetus;  he  loves  the  Gothic  past, 
and  he  finds  little  in  our  modern  world  to  love  outside 
of  Turner's  pictures  and  Walter  Scott's  novels.  All 
else  in  modern  life  is  censurable.  He  quarrels  with 
our  railroads,  and  our  smoking  manufactories,  and  our 
modern  methods  of  money-getting.  Pages  of  his  books 
are  as  charming  as  ever  grew  under  the  driving  pen, 
but  his  digressions  are  more  than  his  subjects.  He 
lacks  ballast.  There  is  in  him  too  much  of  what  he  him- 
self has  graphically  described  as  "  the  wild  writhing, 
and  wrestling,  and  longing  for  the  moon,  and  tilting  at 
windmills,  and  agony  of  eyes,  and  torturing  of  fingers, 
and  general  spinning  out  of  one's  soul  into  fiddlestrings."* 
So  it  is  with  Carlyle.  He  insistently  taught  the  lesson 
that  the  world  is  moving,  that  time  and  tide  wait  for  no 
man,  that  what  has  been  done  cannot  be  undone,  that 
the  great  secret  of  living  is  to  be  up  and  doing — doing 
something — doing  well  whatever  one  puts  hand  to;  and 
that  other  lesson  in  his  great  prose  poem,  The  French 
Revolution^  that  neither  class  nor  creed  is  privileged 
against  the  pursuit  of  a  Nemesis,  for  deeds  ill-done, 
goods  ill-got,  and  responsibilities  ill-discharged.  These 
are  lessons  that  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  but  they 
were  spoken  rather  loud-mouthedly,  and  with  them 
were  mingled  large  drafts  of  cant.  He  sought  to  com- 
pel the  world's  admiration  for  mere  brute  force  in  its 
triumphs  over  right  and  justice.     He  was  out  of  joint 

*  The  Queen  of  the  Air,  p.  170. 


34  Books  and  Reading. 


with  his  time,  and  because  men  refused  to  take  his 
rantings  seriously,  he  raved  and  indulged  in  nick-names 
worthy  of  Billingsgate  in  its  most  unsavory  day.  How- 
ever tonic  may  have  been  his  jeremiads  in  his  own  day 
and  generation,  they  have  now  lost  their  power.  And  so 
Carlyle  may  step  down  and  out.  Our  age  is  hard- 
pressed  with  other  questions  seeking  a  solution.  We 
also  have  our  prophets,  if  we  would  only  recognize 
them ;  and  if  we  do  not  make  the  mistake  of  stoning 
them  we  may  profitably  listen  to  their  lessons. 

VII,  Be  honest  in  your  researches.  Read  both  sides 
of  every  human  question  under  proper  guidance.  In- 
dividual judgments  are  misleading,  and  it  is  only  by 
comparison  of  various  opinions  that  you  can  get  at  the 
real  state  of  the  case.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  historian  to 
go  back  of  a  statement  to  the  author  first  making  the 
statement,  and  inquire  into  the  spirit  by  which  he  is 
animated.  But  this  duty  the  historian  does  not  always 
discharge.  And  yet,  what  is  of  more  importance  than  to 
know  if  it  is  a  friend  or  an  enemy  of  the  person  or  the 
people  who  is  relating  the  story  ?  Under  no  circumstanc- 
es is  the  censure  of  an  enemy  to  be  accepted  unchal- 
lenged and  unsifted.  Don't  be  afraid  of  the  truth.  It 
may  tell  against  your  favorite  author,  or  favorite  princi- 
ple, or  favorite  hobby.  But  facts  are  of  more  worth  than 
misplaced  admiration  or  misconceived  theory.  Let  in  the 
light.  What  we  w^ant  is  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but   the   truth.     Keep   clear  of  whitewashing 


Honest  Research.  35 


books.  Whitewash  is  not  lasting  ;  it  scales  off  and  re- 
veals the  deformities  beneath.  It  were  better  from  the 
beginning  that  we  know  men  as  they  lived,  events  as 
they  happened,  opinions  as  they  were  held.  We  Catho- 
lics fear  no  truth,  have  no  apology  to  make  for  any 
truth,  have  no  hesitancy  in  accepting  all  proven  truth. 
Our  Holy  Father,  in  throwing  open  the  Vatican  Li- 
brary to  historical  research,  has  clearly  defined  the  spirit 
in  which  history  should  be  written  :  "  The  first  law  of 
history,"  says  His  Holiness,  "  is  to  dread  uttering  false- 
hood; the  next,  not  to  fear  stating  the  truth;  lastly,  that 
the  historian's  writings  should  be  open  to  no  suspicion  of 
partiality  or  of  animosity."  * 

When  you  find  a  history,  whether  of  Church  or  of  state, 
with  its  chief  personages  stalking  over  the  page  possess- 
ing neither  spot  nor  blemish  of  character,  making  no 
blunder  in  conduct  or  policy,  perfect  in  all  things,  you 
may  set  that  history  down  as  misleading.  No  man  is 
infallible.  The  life  of  every  man  is  strewn  with  the 
wrecks  of  his  mistakes.  The  wise  man  blunders,  and 
from  his  blunders  learns  the  larger  experience  and  the 
more  prudent  mode  of  action  ;  the  holy  man  blunders, 
and  out  of  his  blunders  builds  unto  himself  a  citadel  of 
sanctity  that  becomes  his  protection  against  temptation. 
The  book  that  would  reveal  to  us  a  soul  passing  through 
all  the  stages  of  its  existence  from  the  first  dawnings  of' 
reason,  and  making  of  its  failures  and  failings  and  short- 

♦  Letter  to  Cards,  de  Lur.a,  Pitra,  and  Hergenrosther,  Aug.  i8,  1883. 


36  Books  and  Reading. 

comings  stepping-stones  to  higher  and  better  things, 
would  be  a  priceless  boon.  But  is  it  not  still  an  unwrit- 
ten book  ? — 

So  also,  in  a  study  of  the  clashings  of  the  various 
schools  and  systems  of  philosophy,  may  you  find  some 
scintillations  suggestive  of  trains  of  useful  thought.  But 
there  is  one  subject  which  I  would  urge  upon  you  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  my  soul  to  hold  in  reverence.  It  is  the 
most  precious  inheritance  that  you  possess.  It  is  more  to 
you  than  broad  acres  and  heaps  of  gold;  more  than  knowl- 
edge and  power;  more  than  fame  and  human  greatness; 
more  than  life  itself.  It  is  the  heritage  of  your  Catholic 
Faith,  that  has  been  nurtured  in  the  blood  of  your  fore- 
fathers, and  handed  down  to  you  as  a  most  sacred  trust. 
It  is  too  holy  a  thing  to  be  trifled  with.  Put  far  away  from 
you  books  calculated  to  undermine  the  groundwork  of  that 
precious  heritage.  Cherish  it  within  your  heart  of  hearts; 
guard  it  there  with  jealous  care.  Do  I  so  exhort  you  be- 
cause I  think  your  faith  cannot  bear  the  light  ?  Far  from 
me  be  such  a  thought.  It  were  but  ill  in  keeping  with  the 
solemn  words  of  the  Father  of  the  faithful.  He  says: 
"  Nor  must  we  pass  by  in  silence,  or  reckon  of  little  ac- 
count, that  fuller  knowledge  of  our  belief,  and,  as  far  as 
maybe,  that  clearer  understanding  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
faith,  which  Augustine  and  other  Fathers  praised  and 
labored  to  attain,  and  which  the  Vatican  Synod  itself 
decreed  to  be  very  fruitful."  *     During  eighteen  hun- 

♦  Leo  XIII.,  Encyclical  .^ferni  Patris. 


Our  Catholic  Heritage.  37 

dred  years  and  more  sophistry  in  every  guise  has  been 
attacking  that  faith,  and  it  shines  to-day  with  greater 
splendor  than  ever.  There  are  popular  books  dissemi- 
nating plausible  objections  that  might  vex  and  annoy 
you  because  you  could  not  answer  them  satisfactorily, 
A  sneer  can  sap  the  foundations  of  a  great  religious 
truth  in  the  unwary  mind.  Any  scoffer  can  raise  objec- 
tions that  only  a  life-study  could  answer.  It  is  the 
absence  of  such  learning  that  the  Psalmist  finds  good  : 
"  Because  I  have  not  known  learning,  I  will  enter  into 
the  powers  of  the  Lord."  *  We  do  not  hold  our  faith 
merely  upon  the  evidence  of  reason,  or  as  a  matter  of 
private  opinion.  It  deals  with  truths  and  mysteries  be- 
yond the  grasp  of  human  reason.  We  hold  it  solely  and 
simply  on  the  authority  of  God  speaking  to  us  through 
His  Church.  We  hold  it  because  God  gives  us  the  grace 
so  to  hold  it.  It  matters  little  to  us  whether  certain 
parts  of  the  Book  of  Daniel  have  been  written  by  Daniel, 
or  by  Esdras,  or  by  any  other  scribe  or  prophet,  f  Our 
faith  is  not  grounded  upon  this  or  that  passage  of  Scrip- 
ture. It  is  based  upon  the  infallible  authority  of  God's 
Church,  which  is  the  pillar  and  ground  of  truth,  and  the 
depositary  of  revelation,  and  which  alone  has  the  key  to 
what  is  or  is  not  of  inspiration  in  the  Sacred  Books. 
This  is  our  stand-by.  A  recent  novel  has  depicted  the 
sad   instance   of   an  Anglican   clergyman   tortured   by 

*  Psalms,  Ixx.  17. 

t  See,  for  instance,  Abbe  Vigouroux,  Cosmogonie  Mosatqitt.  Susanne  :  Caractire 
veridique  de  son  Histoire,  pp.  345-349. 


38  Books  and  Reading. 


doubt,  and  his  faith  crumbhng  away  at  the  touch  of  a 
sceptical  hand.  It  is  the  story  of  hundreds  within  the 
Church  of  England  at  the  present  moment.  And  it  is 
so  because  they  hold  the  most  sacred  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity not  with  the  certitude  of  faith,  but  with  the  prob- 
ability of  private  opinion.  *  The  light  of  faith  pene- 
trates far  beyond  the  light  of  reason  ;  having  lost  the 
grace  of  faith,  those  men  can  no  longer  retain  their  hold 
upon  the  truths  of  faith. 

VIII.  Seek  to  master  the  book  you  read.  To  every 
book  there  is  a  positive  and  a  negative  side.  In  order 
to  get  at  the  positive  side  place  yourself  in  sympathy 
with  the  author.  Read  the  book  from  that  point  of 
view  from  which  he  wrote  it.  Divest  yourself,  for  the 
time  being,  of  your  own  hobbies  and  your  own  standard 
of  criticism.  You  thus  stand  out  of  your  own  light. 
Afterwards  look  to  the  negative  side  of  the  book. 
Note  how  far  the  author  has  gone  over  the  ground  of 
his  subject-matter,  and  wherein  he  falls  short  in  his 
treatment.  There  are  times  when  what  an  author  does 
not  say  is  as  expressive  as  that  which  he  says.  His 
omissions  are  an  important  clue  to  his  frame  of  mind. 
They  reveal  his  likes  and  dislikes,  his  aptitudes,  his 
tastes  and  tendencies.  Sometimes  they  reveal  how  far 
he  falls  short  in  grasping  the  full  bearing  of  his  subject; 
sometimes  they  point  to  his  prudence  in  steering  clear  of 

♦  See  Cardinal  Newman's  Grammar  of  Asse7tt ,  chap,  vii.,  S  2,  5. 


Limitations  of  a  Book,  39 

mooted  questions  barren  in  result ;  sometimes  they 
prove  him  an  artist  of  consummate  skill,  who  knows 
what  not  to  say  as  well  as  what  to  say.  Then,  again, 
the  omission  may  be  designed  suppression.  An  exam- 
ple will  best  illustrate  the  point  I  would  make.  Take 
the  first  and  last  master-pieces  of  George  Eliot.  Adam 
Bede  breaks  upon  the  reader  with  all  the  freshness  and 
truth  of  nature.  Every  element  influencing  character  is 
expressed  in  the  workings  of  the  very  souls  of  the  rural, 
half-educated  folk  acting  out  their  lives  according  to 
their  conscience,  their  early  training,  and  their  personal 
character.  Their  beliefs  are  there,  and  their  lives  are 
colored  by  their  beliefs.  Daniel  Deronda  deals  with 
human  nature  on  lines  diametrically  opposite.  All  its 
men  and  women,  except  the  fanatical  Mordecai  and 
the  priggish  Deronda,  live  and  move  without  religious 
beliefs  and  religious  comforts,  the  creatures  of  environ- 
ment, acting  not  as  they  would  but  as  they  must.  The 
ordinary  reader  throws  the  light  of  his  own  religious 
belief  upon  the  characters  as  they  pass  before  him,  and 
takes  it  for  granted  that  the  author  assumes  through- 
out religious  feeling  and  religious  motive.  But  he  is 
reckoning  without  the  author.  George  Eliot  cast  off 
the  shreds  of  Christianity  that  had  hung  about  her  when 
she  first  began  to  write,  and  in  her  later  works  sup- 
pressed all  Christian  influence  as  false  and  pernicious, 
substituting  in  the  stead  necessity  and  environment.  * 
Here  is  the  fountain  whence  flows  the  poison  permeating 


40  Books  and  Reading. 

this  gifted  writer's  later  works.  It  is  by  taking  into 
account  these  various  aspects  of  authors  and  books  that 
one  learns  to  master  the  book  one  reads. 

IX.  In  your  readings  give  one  another  mutual  sup- 
port and  encouragement.  Therefore  read  aloud  in  the 
family  circle.  After  you  have  read  a  chapter,  discuss 
freely  the  author,  the  style,  the  characters,  the  state- 
ments. This  is  a  good  old  custom  that  was  in  greater 
vogue  a  hundred  years  ago,  when  books  were  scarce 
and  education  was  not  so  generally  diffused.  You  all 
remember  how  charmingly  Goldsmith,  in  that  most 
charming  of  classics.  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield — a  work 
that  contributed  so  largely  towards  the  awakening  of  the 
genius  of  Goethe — describes  the  practice  at  tea-time  in 
the  family-circle  of  Dr.  Primrose.*  Little  did  Goldsmith 
think  that  he  was  therein  painting  a  relic  of  Catholic 
England,  which  had  passed  into  a  family  custom  out  of 
the  convents  and  colleges  and  monasteries  of  mediaeval 
days.  The  custom  is  improving  in  many  directions,  and 
worthy  of  being  preserved.  Another  praiseworthy 
means  of  mutual  help  is  that  of  organizing  reading- 
circles  among  your  friends.  Let  some  competent  person 
cut  out  your  work  for  you  ;  prepare  your  portion  well, 
and  when  the  circle  meets,  enter  with  all  earnestness 
into  the  discussion  of  your  subject.  You  will  find  this  a 
source  of  great  improvement. 

X.  Read  perseveringly.      Keep  at  your  book  or  your 

♦  Chrjpter  v. 


Perseverance  in  Reading.  41 


subject-matter  till  you  shall  have  finished  it.  Do  not 
yield  to  discouragement  because  you  are  not  making  the 
progress  you  had  anticipated.  I  have  known  young 
men  who  were  too  sanguine  in  their  expectations,  and 
who,  upon  seeing  the  little  headway  they  were  making, 
would  throw  up  their  work.  We,  all  of  us,  at  times  feel 
inclined  so  to  act,  and  have  ample  opportunity  to  fight 
against  this  impulse.  But  fight  we  must,  bravely  and 
manfully.  Were  naught  else  to  come  of  this  steady 
reading  habit  than  the  mental  discipline  that  follows,  we 
would  be  the  gainers.  It  would  help  us  to  a  better  grasp 
of  our  daily  affairs.  But  the  habit  brings  with  it  much 
more.  Even  should  we  have  read  but  a  single  book  in 
the  course  of  the  year,  and  above  all,  should  we  have 
made  that  book  our  own,  we  would  be  amply  compensated. 
Intellectual  progress  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  num- 
ber of  pages,  or  the  number  of  volumes  one  has  read, 
A  short  passage  may  suffice  to  mark  an  epoch  in  one's 
intellectual  growth.  He  who  has  let  Wordsworth's 
nobly  chiseled  Ode  to  Duty  in  all  the  beauty  of  its 
classic  severity  sink  into  his  soul,  or  who  has  read  and 
re-read  Cardinal  Newman's  eloquent  sentences  on  the 
power  and  awful  grandeur  of  the  Mass,  till  their  whole 
force  has  come  home  to  him,*  or  who  has  imbibed  the 
truth  and  beauty  of  George  Eliot's  magnificent  tribute  to 
Thomas  a  Kempis,  \  has  opened  up  to  him  a  new  vision 

*  Loss  and  Gain,  pp.  326-329. 

t  The  Mill  on  the  Floss,  blc.  iv.,  chap.  iii. 


Books  and  Reading. 


of  these  subjects.  His  horizon  is  enlarged.  His  in- 
tellectual sight  is  strengthened.  And  such  is  the  edu- 
cational effect  of  every  masterpiece  when  it  has  been 
diligently  read. 

XI.  Lastly,  remember  that  that  is  the  best  reading 
which  tends  to  growth  of  character  as  well  as  to  intellec- 
tual development.  Every  good  book  dealing  with  human 
life  in  its  broader  phases  has  th^  effect.  But  we  Cath- 
olics read  a  certain  class  or  books  that  are  prepared 
especially  for  the  culture  of  our  spiritual  sense.  They 
remind  us  of  our  last  end  ;  they  probe  our  consciences 
an3  lay  open  before  us  our  failings,  and  frailties,  and 
shortcomings;  they  reveal  to  us  the  goodness  and  mercy 
and  sanctity  of  God,  the  life  and  passion  and  merits  of 
our  Redeemer,  the  beauty  and  holiness  of  the  Church; 
they  teach  us  how  to  prepare  for  the  profitable  reception 
of  the  sacraments;  they  place  before  us  for  our  model 
and  imitation  the  ideal  Christian  life.  They  rebuke  our 
sins,  they  soothe  our  anxieties,  they  strengthen  our  re- 
solves. With  such  friends  we  should  become  very  inti- 
mate. And  if  I  may  be  permitted  to  give  advice  upon 
a  subject  that  belongs  more  especially  to  your  spiritual 
director,  I  w^ould  say  to  you:  Whatever  you  read  by 
way  of  spiritual  reading,  be  it  little  or  much,  read  it  slow- 
ly and  reflectively.  You  are  not  under  obligation,  as  in 
pursuing  a  course  of  study,  to  rush  through  a  certain 
amount.  Any  passage  that  comes  home  to  you,  or  stirs 
your  feelings,  or  moves  your  will,  dwell  upon  it  until  you 


H7iat  to  Read,  43 


shall  have  absorbed  all  its  sweetness.  Cultivate  not 
many,  but  a  few,  very  few,  spiritual  books,  which  you 
will  make  it  a  point  to  read  and  read  again  year 
after  year.  * 

V. 

Should  you  ask  me  what  to  read,  I  could  not  give  you 
a  definite  answer.  The  choice  will  greatly  depend  on 
yourself.  Lists  of  books,  except  for  the  pursuit  of 
special  lines  of  study,  are  valueless.  You  have  before 
you  the  whole  range  of  literature  and  thought,  from 
Alice  in  Wonderland—  a  child's  book  which  we  none  of 
us  are  too  old  to  profit  by — to  that  late  beautiful  creation 
of  a  mother's  love  and  a  woman's  genius,  Little  Lord 
L\iuiitleroyj  from  the  primers  of  science  to  the  Mecanique 
Celeste  of  Laplace;  from  the  fairy-tales  of  boyhood  to 
the  great  thinkers;  historians,  poets,  orators,  philoso- 
phers, political  economists — all  place  their  wealth  at  your 
feet  and  ask  you  to  make  it  your  own.  Before  selecting 
draw  the  line  between  the  literature  of  the  hour,  that  is 
so  much  foam  upon  the  current  of  time,  flecking  its  sur- 
face for  a  moment  and  passing  away  into  oblivion,  and 
the  literature  which  is  a  possession  for  all  time,  whose 
foundations  are  deeply  laid  in  human  nature,  and  whose 
structure  withstands  the  storms  of   adversity  and  the 

*  The  indispensable  books  in  every  Catholic  collection  are  :  i.  The  Nexu  Testa- 
tmnt :  2.  The  Imitation  of  Christ :  3.  Spiritual  Combat  ;  4.  Introduction  to  a 
Divoui  Life,  by  St.  Francis  de  Sales. 


44  Books  and  Reading, 


eddies  of  events.  The  literature  of  the  hour  we  cannot 
ignore;  it  has  its  uses;  but  we  may  and  ought  to  guard 
against  wasting  more  time  and  energy  upon  it  than  is 
absolutely  necessary. 

The  daily  press  is  flooding  us  with  sensation  and  dis- 
traction. It  were  the  height  of  unwisdom  in  us  to  devote 
any  but  the  most  limited  time  to  our  morning  paper. 
The  monthly  magazine  and  the  quarterly  review  also 
claim  our  attention.  The  story  is  told  of  Madame  de 
Stael,  how  she  asked  Fichte  to  give  her  within  a  short 
quarter  of  an  hour  an  idea  of  his  philosophy.  The 
philosopher  was  horrified  at  the  thought  that  anybody 
could  in  so  few  minutes  take  in  the  meaning  of  a  system 
that  had  been  for  him  a  life-labor.  Well,  that  which 
caused  Fichte  to  shudder  is  now  of  every-day  occurrence. 
The  magazines  and  reviews  come  to  us  laden  with  ar- 
ticles on  every  conceivable  topic,  in  which  the  learned 
of  the  world  condense  their  life-studies;  and  within 
little  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  we  are  enabled  to 
become  familiar  with  issues  that  it  would  take  us  years 
to  master  to  the  degree  of  our  newly-acquired  knowl- 
edge. Is  this  a  boon  .^  The  knowledge  so  acquired 
cannot  be  rightly  apprehended  unless  we  have  brought 
to  it  previous  special  training.  It  is  simply  a  cramming 
of  undigested  facts.  It  is  not  culture.  Culture  implies 
severe  mental  discipline,  continuous  training,  and  me- 
thodical study  of  the  best  thought  and  most  polished 
expression.      Magazine  articles   can  be   of    use   when 


W/iat  to  Read,  45 


judiciously  selected  and  read  with  care.  Do  not  attempt 
to  read  all.  Choose  those  only  that  are  in  your  line  of 
reading.  In  these  remarks  I  have  in  view  the  secular 
press.  But  we  Catholics  must  not  forget  that  there  is 
also  a  religious  press,  and  that  it  is  an  imperative  duty 
upon  us  to  support  that  press.  Much  good  is  done  by 
every  well-edited  Catholic  journal.  Now,  m.any  of  our 
Catholic  weeklies  are  instructive,  edifying,  and  improv- 
ing. Their  editorials  serve  as  an  antidote  to  correct  the 
poisonous  effects  of  the  venom  frequently  instilled  into 
the  daily  press.  They  determine  our  bearings  as  Cath- 
olics upon  the  issues  of  the  day.  They  signal  to  us  the 
dangers  that  beset  us.  This  is  in  a  higher  degree  true 
of  our  Catholic  magazines.  Those  published  amongst 
us  are  few,  and  are  easily  enumerated.  There  is  the 
Ave  Maria.  Weekly  does  it  place  at  the  feet  of  Mary  a 
bouquet  of  flowers,  rare  and  choice,  contributed  by  the 
most  graceful  Catholic  writers.  There  is  The  Catholic 
World.  Every  month  it  comes  upon  our  tables  laden 
down  with  strong  food  for  reflection  and  sweetmeats  for 
amusement.  You  cannot  pick  up  a  number  without  find- 
ing amid  its  great  variety  something  to  suit  every  taste. 
There  is  the  American  Catholic  Quarterly  Review^  edited 
by  one  of  the  most  erudite  among  scholars,  and  treating 
every  topic  in  the  light  of  Catholic  theology  and  Catholic 
philosophy  from  an  elevated  plane  of  view.  It  may 
interest  you  to  know  that  cultured  non-Catholics  are 
among  its  most  constant  readers,  regarding  it  as  the 


4^  Books  and  Reading, 


fullest  and   most  authoritative  expression  of   Catholic 
opinion  in  America,  * 

Memoirs  and  biographies  and  books  of  travel  and 
manuals  of  popular  science  form  the  staple  of  our  read- 
ing, and  instructive  and  entertaining  reading  they  make; 
but  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  the  ninety-nine  hun- 
dredths of  them  are  books  of  the  hour,  satisfying  the 
wants  of  the  hour  and  nothing  more.  They  excite  a 
momentary  interest,  and  are  then  forgotten.  Let  them 
not  monopolize  all  your  spare  time.  The  only  biography 
in  our  language  which  has  passed  into  the  literature  of 
all  time  is  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnsoti,  f     Autobiography 

*  Two  other  monthlies,  worthy  of  mention,  arc  The  Messenger  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  and  Donahue's  Magazine. 

t  There  is  one  biography  whch  I  would  like  to  see  in  the  hands  of  every  Catholic 
young  man.  It  is  Frederic  Ozanam:  His  Life  and  his  Works,  \iy\}n^  late  Kath- 
leen O'Mcara,  I  can  introduce  it  to  you  in  no  more  fitting  words  than  those  I  have 
used  elsewhere: 

"  The  second  London  edition,  now  before  us,  has  been  found  worthy  of  a  long 
and  valuable  introduction  from  the  pen  of  Cardinal  Manning  to  what  his  Eminence 
calls  *  this  deeply  interesting  narrative.'  With  great  firmr.ess  of  grasp  the  author 
handles  the  salient  everits  of  the  day,  and  groups  around  Ozanam  all  the  leading 
characters  of  that  most  interesting  period  of  French  history — interesting  above  all 
to  the  Catholic  student— and  follows  her  hero  through  the  whirl  and  turmoil  of  Paris, 
and  notes  amid  the  seething  of  thought  that  was  then  going  on  in  all  active  brains  the 
self-possessed  student  through  '  eighteen  years  of  great  intellectual  and  spiritual  in- 
tensity '  (Cardinal  Manning's  preface,  p.  9),  strong,  energetic,  earnest,  carving  his 
way  to  eminence,  and  inspiring  youthful  souls  with  his  own  chivalric  impulses. 
Faithfully  she  traces  his  footsteps  as,  weak  in  body,  he  wanders  through  many  lands 
in  search  of  the  health  that  was  ebbing  fast  away  from  him;  but,  v/ell  or  ill,  always 
returning  weighted  down  with  erudition  g:  thered  from  musty  tomes  hidden  away 
in  the  recesses  of  du'^t-laden  libraries  ;  now  picking  up  legends  in  Catholic  Brittany: 
now  culling   fjowers  of  sweetest   poesy  and   song  in   the  g.irden    of  St.  Francis  of 


IV/iat  to  Read.  47 


has  been  recently  most  disastrous  to  the  writers  thereof. 
Mark  Pattison,  who  seems  to  have  written  in  order  to 
vent  a  personal  spite;  John  Stuart  Mill,  Carlyle— all 
wrote  themselves  down  over-estimated  idols  with  feet  of 
clay.  The  one  exception  is  that  admirable  piece  of 
soul-dissection,  so  outspoken,  with  honesty  written  on 
every  page;  that  revealing  of  a  soul  to  which  tens  of 
thousands  are  bound  up  by  ties  of  gratitude,  love,  and 
admiration — the  Apologia  of  Cardinal  Newman,  a  book 
which  will  henceforth  rank  with  the  Confessions  of  St. 
Augustine. 

And  here  I  v/ould  ask  you  to  distinguish  between  the 
suggestive  book,  that  sets  you  thinking,  and  after  reading 
which  you  wish   for   more,   and  the    book   that  leaves 

Assisi  ;  now  imbibing  inspiration  in  the  land  of  the  Cid  ;  now  following  the  slow 
and  solemn  tread  of  the  great  Dante,  delving  into  that  inexhaustible  mine  of  high 
thought,  the  Divina  Commedia. — ^glad  always  and  above  all  things  when  he  could 
estoblish  a  branch  of  his  dear  Confraternity  of  St.  Vincent  dc  Paul.  It  is  all  told 
with  an  indescribable  charm. 

"  Had  Kathleen  O'Meara  left  no  other  work  from  her  pen  than  this  biography, 
she  would  well  deserve  the  gratitude  of  Catholics.  If  we  were  asked  what  book  we 
would  recommend  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  young  men  in  order  to  quicken  their 
sympathies  in  behalf  of  misery  and  sufiering,  and  aid  the  good  that  is  in  them  to 
bloom  out  and  bear  fruit,  we  should  name  without  fear  of  demur  or  contradiction 
Kathleen  O'Mcara's  Frederic  Ozanam.  It  is  a  story  of  great  talent  utilized  and 
bearing  compound  interest;  an  illustration  of  great  opportunities  created  and  seized 
upon  and  used  to  advantage  ;  a  revelation  of  sweet  and  charming  domestic  virtues. 
In  Ozanam  we  behold  the  man  of  the  world  whose  pulse  beats  in  sympathy  with  all 
the  literary,  political,  and  social  movements  of  the  day ;  the  ripe  scholar,  the  un- 
wearied student,  and  the  beautiful,  saintly  soul.  The  book  is  strong  enough  to  mark 
an  epoch  in  the  life  of  any  thoughtful  Catholic  young  man."  The  Azv  Maria, 
March  6,  1889. 


48  Books  and  Reading. 

nothing  unsaid,  and  in  a  measure  does  all  your  thinking. 
I  need  scarcely  tell  you  that  the  suggestive  book  makes 
the  more  profitable  reading.  It  is  invigorating  ;  it  is  of 
the  highest  order  of  writing.  All  the  world-authors — 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Dante,  a  Kempis,  Shakspere,  Goethe — 
are  eminently  suggestive.  They  exhaust  no  train  of 
thought  ;  they  are  content  to  designate  the  lines  on 
which  the  reader  should  travel  in  order  to  attain  the 
goal.  Between  lines  you  read  a  sense  of  power  held  in 
reserve.  Their  utterances,  given  out  in  distinct  though 
subdued  tones,  are  the  utterances  of  men  holding  in 
control  both  thought  and  expression.  Hence  the 
libraries  of  books  that  have  been  written,  and  that  will 
continue  to  be  written,  upon  each  of  these  great  writers 
without  ever  exhausting  their  infinite  suggestiveness. 
The  suggestive  book  may  be  large  or  small.  A  modern 
suggestive  book  should  be  confined  within  a  small 
compass.  Would  that  I  could  bring  home  to  writers  the 
ease  with  which  this  may  be  done  !  How  much  weari- 
ness of  spirit  the  reading  world  would  then  be  spared  ! 
The  process  is  simple.  Let  the  writer  reject  from  his 
book  whatever  there  is  of  padding,  of  negations,  of 
repetitions  of  things  that  have  been  better  said  by  others; 
let  him  eschew  all  grandiloquent  description  and  what 
is  called  fine  writing  ;  let  him  confine  himself  to  his 
subject,  meeting  difficulties  and  objections  in  the  clear 
light  of  the  ^predominant  idea,  condensing  whole  chap- 
ters into  paragraphs,  whole  parapraphs  into  sentences. 


Novel-Reading.  49 


whole  sentences  into  single  words  and  phrases.  In  this 
manner  may  books  be  written  in  keeping  with  the  busy 
life  men  lead  and  the  many  claims  that  press  upon  them. 
In  this  manner  would  there  be  less  waste  of  paper,  less 
waste  of  ink,  less  waste  of  labor,  less  brain-waste  ;  the 
millennium  of  the  reading  world  would  be  at  hand. 
The  reading  of  strong  and  terse  writing  fires  the  soul 
and  strengthens  the  intellect ;  the  reading  of  emascu- 
lated books  will  make  emasculated  intellects. 

VI. 

I  NEED  scarcely  tell  you  that  the  great  bulk  of  novels 
of  the  day  are  of  the  lightest  froth.  It  were  intellectual 
suicide  to  spend  one's  time  and  waste  one's  energies  un- 
raveling improbable  plots  or  watching  puppets  of  the 
brain — mere  wax-works— dance  before  one  through  page 
after  page  and  volume  after  volume,  leaving  it  difficult 
to  determine  which  is  deserving  of  most  censure,  the 
presumption  of  the  writer  in  rushing  into  print,  his  bad 
taste,  or  the  mongrel  language  in  which  he  expresses 
himself.  The  British  Museum  recently  made  a  rule  to 
let  out  no  novels  to  readers  till  after  the  expiration  of  five 
years.  How  many  of  the  novels  published  in  this  year  of 
grace  will  be  read  five  years  hence  ?  Ask  the  Mudie  or 
any  other  circulating  library  what  is  the  duration  of  the 
popularity  of  books  for  which  the  presses,  worked  day  and 
night,  were  unable  to  supply  the  demand.  The  popu- 
larity of  the  hour  is  no  criterion  of  worth.     Ben  Hur 


50  Books  and  Reading. 


lay  long  months  untouched  upon  the  publishers'  shelves 
before  men  awakened  to  its  beauty  and  power ;  Lorna 
Doom  was  for  years  struggling  into  public  recognition  ; 
and  who  that  has  read  Dion  and  the  Sybils  will  say  that  it 
has  yet  received  a  tithe  of  its  full  measure  of  justice  ? 
The  popularity  of  the  hour  is  most  misleading.  Among 
living  authors  the  one  that  bids  fairest  to  become  a 
classic — I  regret  that  I  cannot  unreservedly  recommend 
him — is  one  who  worked  for  years  in  poverty  and  ob- 
scurity before  obtaining  recognition  ;  even  at  the  present 
moment  his  readers  are  limited.  His  prose  is  as  repel- 
lent to  the  casual  reader  as  is  the  poetry  of  Robert 
Browning.  But,  like  Browning,  he  is  a  keen  analyzer  of 
human  motives  ;  like  Browning  also  he  deals  largely 
with  the  morbid  in  human  life.  Every  novel  of  his  is  a 
soul-study,  and  almost  every  sentence  is  an  epigram.  I 
allude  to  George  Meredith.  A  careful  study  of  his 
Diana  of  the  Crossways — the  original  of  which,  by  the 
way,  was  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Norton — will  give  you  some  in- 
sight into  his  great  power  and  unrivaled  merit. 

But  there  is  no  dearth  of  novels  that  have  passed  the 
ordeal  of  time  and  are  pronounced  classic.  Scott  is  still 
read,  and  will  continue  to  be  read  as  long  as  men  will 
appreciate  the  spontaneous  outpourings  of  a  genius  who 
writes  with  all  the  ease  and  joyousness  with  which  the 
blackbird  sings.  There  is  about  his  novels  the  freshness 
of  the  morning  dew.  We  Catholics  will  pardon  him  the 
misrepresentations  of  our  monks  and  the  caricatures  of 


Novel-Reading.  5 1 


our  religious  practices  that  disfigure  some  of  his  pages, 
for  we  know  that  he  bore  us  no  mahce,  and  had  he 
known  better  he  would  have  done  us  more  justice.  The 
large  majority  of  his  books  are  wholesome  reading. 

But  there  is  now  coming  into  vogue  a  pernicious 
species  of  novel,  all  the  more  dangerous  because  of  its 
insidiousness.  It  is  not  openly  immoral.  It  is,  as  a 
rule,  artistically  written,  and  loudly  praised  by  the  critics 
in  sympathy  with  its  principles.  It  is  the  novel  of  Pes- 
simism. Its  spirit  is  anti-Christian.  It  represents  men 
and  women  under  the  cold  and  barren  influence  of 
Agnosticism  or  Positivism — either  system  has  the  same 
ultimate  result — with  Agnostic  or  Positivist  theories  fil- 
tered through  their  lives  and  moulding  their  opinions  and 
characters.  Within  its  pages  you  look  in  vain  for  a 
Providence,  immortality,  spiritual  existence.  Its  sum- 
mary of  all  life  is  a  natural  development  of  the  physical 
man  or  woman,  happy  in  the  airy  fancies  youth  weaves  ; 
then  a  crisis  which  precipitates  all  illusions  ;  afterwards 
hardened  feelings,  bitterness  in  speech,  and  either  rail- 
ings at  all  life  or  the  resignation  of  despair,  recklessly, 
hopelessly  submitting  to  the  Must-be.  You  cannot 
detect  its  subtle  influence  till  it  has  left  the  iron  in  your 
soul,  and  the  sweet  prayers  of  your  childhood  have  grown 
insipid,  and  the  ritual  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church  have 
lost  their  attraction,  and  you  no  longer  think  of  God  and 
your  future  with  the  same  concern.  It  is  in  steering 
clear  of  such  novels  that  direction  is  especially  necessary. 


52  Books  and  Reading. 


Though  we  have  no  single  great  national  novel,  either 
for  America  or  for  England,  as  Cervantes'  Don  Quixote 
is  for  the  Spanish;  as  Manzoni's  I Frojnessi  Sposi  is  for 
the  Italians;   as   Tolstoi's  An7ia   Karenifia^    that   great 
prose  epic  of  Russian  life  in  its  good  and  its  bad  aspects, 
is  for  the  Russians;  still,  in  Dickens,  in  Hawthorne,  in 
several  of  Bulwer  Lytton's — My  Novell  for  instance,  and 
nearly  all  his  later  ones — in  the  great  modern  master  of 
novelists,  him  of  the  big  heart  and  the  generous  sym- 
pathy, that  great  lay  preacher  and  critic  of  manners,  who 
has  written  such  classic  prose  and  given  us  such  grand 
character-studies   in    Vanity   Fair   and    Pe7iden?iis    and 
Henry  Esmond  and    The  Newcomes — in  all  these  and 
many  others  we  can  find  amusement,  instruction,  and  im- 
provement.     You   may    be    interested    to    know    that 
Thackeray  was  in  strong  sympathy  with  the  Catholic 
Church.     His  bosom  friend,  William  B.  Reed,  of  Phila- 
delphia, in  a  valuable  little  book,  published  anonymously 
and  now  very  scarce,  bears  witness  to  the  fact;  and  I 
quote  his  words  all  the  more  willingly,   for  the  reason 
that  when  this  essay  of  Mr.  Reed's  was  republished  in  a 
series  printed  in  New  York  the  interesting  passage  was 
omitted.  *     "  Thackeray,"  says  his  friend,  "  was  in  one 
sense — not  a  technical  one — a  religious,   or,   rather,   a 
devout,  man,  and  I  have  sometimes  fancied  (start  not, 
Protestant  reader  !)  that  he  had  a  sentimental  leaning  to 

*  Bric-a-Brac  Series :  Anecdote  Biographies  of  Thackeray  and  Dickens,  edited  by 
Richard  Henry  Stoddard. 


Novel-Reading.  53 


the  church  of  Christian  antiquity.  Certain  it  is,  he  never 
sneered  at  it  or  disparaged  it.  *  After  all,'  said  he  one 
night  to  him  who  writes  these  notes,  driving  through  the 
streets  of  an  American  city,  and  passing  a  Roman  Catholic 
cathedral,  *  that  is  the  only  thing  that  can  be  called  a 
church.* "  *  We  will  think  none  the  less  kindly  of 
Thackeray  for  this  good  word.  We  will  censure  him  all 
the  more  lightly  for  his  want  of  appreciation  of  his  Irish 
neighbors,  and  especially  for  his  caricature  in  the  Fother- 
ingay  of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Miss  O'Neill,  f 
I  know  no  better  antidote  against  a  craving  for  the  trashy 
stuff  that  is  now  flooding  the  world  than  to  make 
a  thorough  study  of  one  or  other  of  the  great  novel- 
ists. After  one  has  become  accustomed  to  fare  on  whole- 
some food  one  is  not  apt  to  feed  on  husks  and  swallow 
swill. 

Not  but  that  among  novels,  as  among  poems,  which 
have  not  yet  received  the  sanction  of  time,  we  perceive 
many  a  gem  bringing  home  to  us  many  a  beautiful  lesson, 
and  we  may  humbly  and  thankfully  accept  the  gift.  I 
find  in  several  of  our  living  writers  purpose,  style,  and 
art  of  a  high  order.  One  of  the  most  successful  of 
them — Mr.  W.  D.  Howells — once  remarked  to  me  that 
he  could  no  more  conceive  a  novel  without  a  purpose 
than  an  arch  without  a  key-stone.     Various  are  the  ways 

♦  World  Essays,  p.  209. 

t  Thackeray  himself  received  no  better  justice  at  the  hands  of  Lord  Beaconsfield. 
The  spiteful  character  of  St.  Barbe  in  Endymion  is  far  from  being  the  genial  and 
large-hearted  Thackeray  as  known  to  his  friends. 


54  Books  and  Reading. 


in  which  the  goodness  of  that  purpose  may  be  shown: 
now  it  is  to  place  before  us  an  ideal  of  life  in  its  diverse, 
phases,  now  to  caution  us  against  some  of  the  evils 
gnawing  at  the  vitals  of  society,  now  to  bring  the  past 
nearer,  now  to  photograph  glimpses  of  an  order  of  things 
passing  away  forever,  now  to  put  us  in  presence  of  higher 
truths;  and  we  have  well-written  and  powerful  novels  illus« 
trative  of  all  these  ways.  To  mention  names  were  tedious. 
I  am  not  unmindful  of  the  distinctively  Catholic  novel. 
It  is  of  recent  growth  on  English  soil.  That  eminent 
churchman  and  scholar,  Cardinal  Wiseman,  saw  in  the 
Last  Days  of  Pompeii  the  model  of  an  idea  which,  carried 
out,  might  prove  most  fruitful  in  bringing  before  the 
minds  of  the  people  a  vivid  picture  of  the  Christian 
Church  passing  through  the  various  stages  of  her 
struggles  and  her  triumphs.  His  fertile  brain  according- 
ly projected  a  series  of  novels  intended  to  rehabilitate 
the  life  of  the  primitive  Christians,  and,  with  his  usual 
versatility,  he  turned  aside  from  his  oriental  and  scientific 
studies,  and  led  the  way  in  that  delightful  story  of  Fabiola^ 
which  continues  to  be  read  with  unabated  interest.  Then 
followed  Callista^  a  classic  of  finer  fibre  and  more  delicate 
structure,  abounding  in  subtle  traits  of  character,  and 
penetrated  with  that  keen  sen.se  of  the  beautiful  in  which 
the  Grecian  mind  lived  and  moved.  It  is  a  book  that 
grows  upon  one  with  every  successive  perusal.  Other 
works  of  merit  were  modeled  on  these,  and  though  the 
list  is  short,  it  is  select. 


The  Catholic  Novel.  55 

Nor  am  I  unmindful  of  a  number  of  writers  of  the 
day  professing  the  Catholic  faith,  whose  pens,  though 
not  devoted  to  exclusively  Catholic  subjects,  have  pro- 
duced, and  still  produce,  good  reading.  Two  of  the 
most  prominent — Lady  Georgiana  Fullerton  and  Kath- 
leen O'Meara — have  recently  dropped  out  of  the  list, 
and  have  gone  to  their  well-earned  reward.  So  has  the 
chivalric  and  generous  John  Boyle  O'Reilly.  Rosa  Mul- 
holland.  Christian  Reid,  Mrs.  Elisabeth  Gilbert  Martin, 
Mrs.  Cashel-Hoey,  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston,  Marion 
Crawford — with  some  exceptions, — the  Rev.  John  Tal- 
bot Smith,  the  outspoken  editor  of  the  Catholk  Rtview^ 
and  those  two  honored  pioneers  of  the  Catholic  novel 
in  America,  Mrs.  Sadlier  and  Mrs.  Hanson  Dorsey,  are 
among  those  that  recur  to  memory. 

Were  we  to  enumerate  the  various  Catholic  authors 
who  in  our  own  day  shine  in  different  departments  of 
literature — James  Jeffrey  Roche,  poet  and  journalist,  on 
whose  shoulders  the  mantle  of  John  Boyle  O'Reilly  has 
so  worthily  fallen;  Charles  Warren  Stoddard,  Maurice 
Francis  Egan,  who,  whether  polishing  a  sonnet,  pen- 
ning an  editorial,  or  etching  a  scene  from  life,  al- 
ways pleases;  Louise  Imogen  Guiney,  Agnes  Repplier, 
Eleanor  C.  Donnelly,  Katherine  Conway,  Mrs.  Mary  E. 
Blake,  Mrs.  Margaret  F.  Sullivan,  who  wields  so  ver- 
satile a  pen,  whether  as  journalist,  or  critic,  or  eloquent 
pleader  in  behalf  of  Ireland — were  we  to  name  all,  we 
could  not  find  space  within  the  covers  of  this  essay. 


56  Books  and  Reading. 

VII. 

Books  of  criticism  are  always  read  with  interest,  and 
are  efficient  aids  in  determining  the  works  we  shall  read. 
They  promote  intellectual  growth.  They  cultivate  lit- 
erary taste.  They  give  us  other  aspects  of  the  books 
under  review  than  those  we  would  be  likely  to  take 
from  our  point  of  view.  The  Appreciations  of  Mr.  Walter 
Pater,  though  not  always  clear,  and  somewhat  wordily 
written,  are  pitched  in  a  high  key  of  criticism  calculated 
to  quicken  thought;  the  Views  and  Reviews  of  Mr.  W.  E. 
Henley,  short  and  crisp  and  suggestive,  are  truly  models 
of  good  taste  and  sound  literary  judgment;  the  Essays 
in  Criticism  of  Matthew  Arnold  contain  estimates  that 
are  carefully  made,  and  in  matters  purely  literary  that 
author's  judgment  is  almost  as  delicate  as  that  of  his 
master  Sainte-Beuve.  The  Among  my  Books  of  Mr. 
James  Russell  Lowell,  though  occasionally  too  long 
drawn  out,  display  much  good  sense.  In  the  writings  of 
Whipple  and  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  poet  of  elegant 
finish  and  most  fair-minded,  genial,  and  sympathetic 
of  critics,  and  of  George  E.  Woodberry,  we  find  careful 
guides  and  stimulators  to  reflection.  And  when  Aubrey 
de  Vere,  in  his  Essays  chiefly  on  Poetry^  discourses  to  us 
about  his  master  Wordsworth,  and  initiates  us  into  an 
appreciation  of  the  grandeur  and  beauty  and  philosophic 
depth  of  that  great  poet's  work,  we  feel  as  though  a  new 
world  of  thought  had  been  laid  open  to  us.  Then,  there 
is  Richard  Holt  Hutton.     Literary  criticism  seems  to 


Criticism  a  nd  Ph  ilosophy.  5  7 

have  attained  its  high-water  mark  in  his  Essays.  His 
theological  opinions  have  no  value  for  Catholics.  They 
may  satisfy  men  groping  in  the  dark,  unsettled  in  their 
creed  and  anxiously  awaiting  the  light.  But  his  literary 
essays  are  greatly  valuable  for  their  thoughtfulness, 
breadth  of  view,  and  grasp  of  subject.  In  making  his 
estimates  he  speaks  with  fine  discrimination;  his  qualifi- 
cations are  apt  and  to  the  point;  his  judgment  is  evenly 
balanced;  he  defines  with  clearness,  and  as  a  rule  his 
summing  up  is  such  as  we  can  accept  with  confidence. 
He  is  sensitive  to  every  turn  of  phrase  and  expression, 
and  possesses  the  rare  talent  of  knowing  when  a  thought 
is  fittingly  clothed  in  words.  Could  it  be  otherwise  with 
one  who  has  made  a  life  study  of  the  writings  of  Cardi- 
nal Newman  as  the  standard  of  all  excellence  in  form  of 
expression  ? 

But  the  reader  who  should  rest  content  with  learning 
what  others  may  have  to  say  about  a  book,  without  test- 
ing for  himself  by  actual  perusal  how  far  he  can  follow 
them  in  their  estimates — relish  what  they  relish,  or  con- 
demn what  they  condemn,  or  approve  what  they  ap- 
prove— would  be  only  taking  the  shadow  of  knowledge 
for  the  substance.  It  is  Novalis  who  likens  such  a 
reader  to  him  who  would  satisfy  his  hunger  with  the 
perusal  of  a  bill  of  fare. 

Then  there  is  an  extensive  literature  of  art  criticism, 
which  it  behooves  us  not  to  ignore.  Art  idealizes  life. 
It  leaves  impressions  for  good  or  ill  that  are  ineffaceable. 


58  Books  and  Reading. 

"  Onee  the  verse-book  laid  on  shelf. 
The  picture  turned  to  wall,  the  music  fled  from  ear — 
Each  beauty,  born  of  each,  grows  clearer  and  more  clear, 
Mine  henceforth,  ever  mine  !  " —  * 

So  sang  the  poet  of  art-thought  and  art-impression. 

Etchings  and  engravings  by  various  admirable  pro- 
cesses have  brought  the  great  masterpieces  within  reach 
of  all,  and  it  were  not  to  our  credit  to  neglect  their 
study.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  charming  volumes 
^^oi  Miss  Eliza  Allen  Starr  you  find  much  to  admire. 
Their  full  meaning  will  be  unrolled  before  you.  She 
has  made  art  a  life-study;  and  I  may  safely  say  that 
there  is  not  a  great  painting  in  Europe  of  which  she  has 
not  the  key,  and  which  she  cannot  describe  in  apt  and 
clear-cut  phrase.  Then  we  Catholics  must  not  forget 
that  all  great  art  is  pre-eminently  Catholic.  Its  tra- 
ditions are  Catholic.  Its  whole  meaning  is  determined 
only  by  Catholic  interpretation.  It  is  for  us  to  read 
and  understand  the  full  sense  of  the  mediaeval  works  of 
art.  The  subjects  are  Catholic,  the  masters  were  Catho- 
lic, their  inspiration  was  Catholic;  and  it  should  be  our 
pride  and  our  glory  to  be  familiar  both  with  the  subjects 
and  with  the  great  masters.  Why  not  cherish  what  is 
peculiarly  our  own  ? — Why  leave  it  to  be  distorted  and 
misinterpreted  at  the  hands  of  strangers  to  Catholic 
faith  and  Catholic  traditions? 

You  find  the  leading  magazines  and  reviews  abound- 
ing in  philosophical  essays.    Herbert  Spencer  and  Profes- 

*  Robert  Browning,  Fijine,  p.  400. 


Criticism  and  Philosophy.  5g 

sor  Huxley  and  their  numerous  disciples  and  co-workers 
are  very  active  in  the  field  of  speculation.     It  is  not  at 
all  times  easy  to  perceive  wherein  their  theories  err. 
It  is  not  at  all  times  wise  to  undertake  to  sift  the  truth 
from  the  error,  except  it  be  under  safe  guidance.     Butf^' 
where  there  is  leisure  and  inclination,  our  Catholic  young 
men  and  young  v/omen  might  profitably  pursue  a  course 
of  philosophic  reading.     The  Stonyhurst  series  of  philo- 
sophical text-books,  starting  with  the  Logic  of  Father  • 
Richard  Clarke,  S.  J.,  will  be  found  profitable  study  to 
begin  with.     They  impart  the  principles  of  scholastic 
philosophy  in  as  correct  English  as  we  can  look  for. 
And  that  they   are  written   by   the  Jesuit'  Fathers  is 
in  itself  a  vouchment  for  their  orthodoxy.     This  series 
might  be  supplemented  by  Balmes'  Fundamental  Philoso-    ^ 
phy^  which  has  been  so  well  rendered  into  English  by 
Mr.  Henry  F.  Brownson,  and  by  Father  Harper's  noble 
effort  to  modernize  the  great  work  of  Suarez  in  his 
Metaphysics  of  the  School.     In  Mivart's  Philosophical  Cate-  '- 
chism,  in  his  Lessons  from  Nature^  in  his  great  work    On 
Truths  and  its  supplement,  Ihe  Origin  of  Human  Reason, 
you  will  find  the  answer  to  many  a  burning  question  of 
the  day.     So  also  will  you  find  in  Lilly's  recent  work.  On   ^ 
Right  and   Wrong,  a  satisfactory  refutation  of  Herbert  '- 
Spencer's  Data  of  Ethics.    Then,  Hettinger's  Natural  Relig- 
ion, which  has  been  recently  so  ably  translated  by  Father 
Sebastian  Bowden  of  the  London  Oratory,  and  Quatre- 
fage's  work  on  the  unity  of  the  human  race,  published  in 


6o  Books  and  Reading. 

the  International  Scientific  Series — one  of  the  few  re- 
deeming books  of  that  series  from  the  Christian  point  of 
view — will  give  you  the  latest  word  of  science  upon  prob- 
lems that  science  will  be  a  long  time  in  solving.  Bal- 
^  four's  Philosophical  Doubt  and  Father  Lambert's  Notes  on 
Ingersoll  show  how  easily  the  opponents  of  Christian 
revelation  may  be  run  to  cover.  Stockl's  History  of  Phil- 
osophy^ translated  by  Father  Finlay,  S.  J.,  will  give  a  fair 
account  of  various  systems  that  have  agitated  the  world. 
l^^NoT  must  I  omit  the  Grammar  of  Assent.  It  is  a  work 
that  ranks  Cardinal  Newman  with  the  great  thinkers  of 
all  time.  It  is  another  chapter  contributed  to  the  his- 
tory of  human  thought.  But  it  is  not  a  book  that  will 
fit  into  any  system.  Newman  was  a  disciple  of  no  phil- 
osophic school.  He  allowed  no  man  to  do  his  thinking 
for  him.  He  did  his  own  thinking;  and  the  book  is  the 
outcome  of  his  own  personal  struggles.  The  ever-re- 
curring problem  to  his  mind  was  the  reconciliation  be- 
tween reason  and  faith.  How  can  the  human  reason 
give  assent  to  a  mystery,  or  a  doctrine  beyond  its  com- 
prehension ? — How  can  a  chain  of  reasoning  every  link 
of  which  is  in  itself  a  probability  lead  to  the  certitude  of 
faith  ? — These  are  the  problems  he  attempts  the  solution 
of  in  his  great  work.  You  find  the  author  groping 
after  their  solution  in  his  Oxford  University  Sermons^  in 
l/V  his  Development  of  Doctrine^  and  in  his  Essays  on  Miracles. 
^  They  are  outlined  in  the  Apologia."^  But  in  the  Grammar 
*  Part  iii. ,  pp.  68-73. 


Criticism  a7td  Philosophy.  6i 

of  Assent  they  are  surveyed  in  all  their  bearings,  and 
the  workings  of  the  intellect  in  its  various  modes  of  ap- 
prehending truth  are  explained  with  keen  analytic  power 
and  a  wonderful  wealth  of  illustration.  His  genius  pen- 
etrated depths  that  only  the  greatest  intellects  have  had 
glimpses  of.  He  never  read  Kant,  but  he  had  Kant's 
insight  into  the  shortcomings  of  purely  syllogistic  rea- 
soning. The  key-note  to  his  book  may  be  found  in 
these  words:  "I  had  a  great  dislike  for  paper  logic.  For 
myself,  it  was  not  logic  that  carried  me  on;  as  well 
might  one  say  that  the  quicksilver  in  the  barometer 
changes  the  weather.  //  is  the  concrete  being  that  reasons; 
pass  a  number  of  years,  and  I  find  my  mind  in  a  new 
place;  how?  the  whole  man  moves;  paper  logic  is  but  the 
record  of  it.''  *  Therefore  it  was  that  this  acute  intellect 
found  the  syllogism  fall  short  both  of  concrete  issues  and 
of  first  principles.  To  supply  the  deficiency  is  one  of  the 
chief  objects  of  his  book.  Newman,  be  it  remembered, 
never. wrote  for  the  sake  of  mere  speculation.  He  wrote 
because  there  was  a  thought  within  him  burning  for  ut- 
terance. His  life  was  all  earnestness,  and  his  writings 
were  an  essential  part  of  that  life.  The  same  earnest- 
ness of  purpose  enters  into  their  composition.  He  knew 
that  there  were  souls  wrestling  with  the  same  problems 
that  had  for  so  many  years  occupied  his  mind,  and  he 
hastened  to  place  before  them  the  solution  that  had  satis- 
fied his  reason.  This  is  the  meaning  of  a  book  which  is 
*  Apologia,  Part  iv.,  p.  206. 


62  Books  and  Reading. 


still,  in  a  measure,  an  enigma  to  a  large  portion  of  the 
reading  world.  And  so  viewed,  this  remarkable  book 
stands  forth  an  evidence  of  the  noble  charity  that  in- 
spired its  author  in  writing  it  as  well  as  of  the  luminous 
genius  that  dictated  it.  Cardinal  Manning,  who  did 
certainly  sound  the  depths  of  Newman's  great  intellect, 
in  estimating  his  influence,  thus  alluded  to  the  book  and 
the  author:  '■'■  But  we  cannot  forget  that  we  owe  to  him, 
among  other  debts,  one  singular  achievement.  No  one 
who  does  not  intend  to  be  laughed  at  will  henceforward 
say  that  the  Catholic  religion  is  fit  only  for  weak  intellects 
and  unmanly  brains.  This  superstition  of  pride  is  over. 
k^^St.  Thomas  Aquinas  is  too  far  off  and  too  little  known 
to  such  talkers  to  make  them  hesitate.  But  the  author 
of  the  Grammar  of  Assent  may  make  them  think  twice 
before  they  expose  themselves."  *  This  is  a  tribute  as 
deserving  as  it  is  delicate.  Could  human  tongue  speak 
higher  compliment? 

It  is  needless  to  enlarge  upon  the  advantages  to  be  de- 
rived from  the  study  of  philosphy.  It  has  always  had  a 
fascination  for  the  human  mind.  Men  will  never  cease  to 
be  interested  in  questions  that  concern  them  as  intimately 
as  do  those  bearing  upon  their  origin,  their  nature,  their 
destiny,  their  relations  with  the  outer  world  and  with 
one  another  ;  questions  underlying  the  foundation  of  all 
knowledge  ;  questions  dealing  with  the  first  principles  of 
things ;  questions  on  the  methods,  the  definitions,  and 

*  Funeral  Seimon,  London  Tablet,  Aug.  23,  1890. 


Criticism  and  Philosophy.  63 

the  scope  of  science,  literature,  and  art.  They  all  fall 
within  the  province  of  philosophy.  Then,  a  course  of 
philosophy  thoroughly  and  seriously  pursued  is  a  great 
intellectual  discipline.  It  imparts  a  habit  of  mental 
caution  that  is  inestimable  as  an  aid  in  sifting  truth 
from  error.  It  enables  one  to  appreciate  the  supreme 
forms  of  literature.  Goethe,  Shakspere,  Dante,  Plato, 
even  Tennyson  in  his  In  Memoriam^  all  dwell  in  that  up- 
per region  of  thought  in  which  the  great  world-truths  are 
harmonized  in  an  atmosphere  of  poetry  and  philos- 
ophy. And  thus  it  is  that  philosophy  is  the  basis  of  all 
true  culture.  Without  sound  philosophical  principles  the 
human  mind  is  ever  building  upon  shifting  sands.  The 
principles  are,  one  and  all,  unchangeable.  Systems  and 
methods  may  and  do  vary 

"  Our  little  systems  have  their  day  ; 
They  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be: 
They  are  but  broken  lights  of  Thee, 
And  Thou,  O  Lord,  art  more  than  they—"  * 

but  principles  remain  ever  the  same.    They  are  the  light 
of  our  reason. 
*  In  Memorinnt. 


64  Books  and  Readijig. 


VIII. 
Poetry  is  also  a  factor — and  an  important  factor — of 
culture.     It  is  formative  both  of  individual  and  national 
character.     Some  of  the  noblest  impulses  and  emotions 
,  of  the  age  have  found  expression  in  poems  that  thrilled 
a  whole  nation.     Such  a  poem  was  Hood's  fierce  and 
^^     indignant  Song  of  the  Shirty  penned  in  deep  sympathy 
with   the   poor,   starving,   underpaid,  and    overworked 
seamstress  of  London;  such  a  poem  was  that  heart-rend- 
u-    ing  sob,  The  Bridge  of  Sighs,  going  out  to  every  heart 
in  earnest  appeal  to  be  more  humane  to  erring  unfortu- 
nate ones;  such  a  poem  was  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning's 
L.     Cry  of  the  Children^  that    powerful  protest   against  the 
cruelty  of  child-labor  in  manufactories.     Even  so,  gener- 
ations ago,  was  Greece  educated  by  Homer,  and  the  Old 
English  by  the  poems  of  Beowidf  and  The  Fight  at  Fin- 
nesburgh.     Nor  has  poetry  in  these  days  lost  its  formative 
influence  over  those  who  read  it  thoughtfully  and  sym- 
pathetically.    Every  one  so  reading  will  find  in  a  favorite 
author  an  inexhaustible  source  of  thought,  amusement, 
and  restfulness.     He  who  has  attuned  his  soul  to  the 
l^  music  of  Adelaide  Proctor,  or   of   Longfellow,  till  his 
thoughts  vibrate  in  unison  with  the  clear,  simple,  and 
beautiful  forms  of  expression  that  he  has  found  in  these 
authors,  has  an  unfailing  source  of  recreation  and  a  health- 
ful mental  tonic.     He  who  has  soared  higher,  and  peo- 
pled his  imagination  with  the  varied  world,  and  garnered 
his  memory  with  the  suggestive   sayings,  of  a  Shak- 


Poetry  and  Culture.  65 


spere,  has  the  wherewith  to  beguile  many  a  weary  hour 
and  to  nourish  his  soul  with  wholesome  food  for  reflec- 
tion. The  noble  grandeur  of  Milton's  stately  lines,  the 
clear-cut  sense  of  Pope's  polished  couplets,  the  delicate 
finish  of  Tennyson's  verse,  in  which  thought  and  expres- 
sion are  so  harmoniously  blended — these  and  many  more 
appeal  to  the  cultured  mind  for  careful  perusal,  and  all 
repay  the  pains  taken  to  acquire  insight  into  their  diverse 
harmonies.  Who  does  not  feel  the  better  that  the  resig- 
nation and  trust  in  God  so  beautifully  expressed  in 
^^Leacl^  kindly  Light,  has,  through  that  poem,  sunk  into  his 
heart  ? — How  many  a  soul  has  risen  to  higher  and  better 
things  because  it  was  haunted  by  a  beautiful  sentiment  ? 
Of  the  late  General  Gordon  we  are  told  that  these  lines 
from  Paracelsus  had  sunk  so  deeply  into  his  heart  that 
they  might  be  regarded  as  his  motto: 

**  I  go  to  prove  my  soul ! 

I  see  my  way  as  birds  their  trackless  way. 
I  shall  arrive  !     What  time,  what  circuit  first, 
I  ask  not :  but  unless  God  send  His  hail 
Of  blinding  fire-balls,  sleet  or  stifling  snow. 
In  good  time,  His  good  time,  I  shall  arrive  : 
He  guides  me  and  the  bird.     In  His  good  time  !  " 
Nobly  did  the  hero  of  Khartoum  live  and  die  in  the 
resigned  and  humble  spirit  of  these  lines. 

Mr.  W.  T.  Stead,  late  editor  of  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette, 
speaking  of  that  powerful  poem  illustrating  the  despair 
and  disappointment  of  a  blasted  life  at  the  threshold  of 
eternity,  the  Extreme  Unction  of  James  Russell  Lov/ell, 


66  Books  and  Reading. 

says:  *^  It  made  a  deeper  dint  on  my  life  than  any 
other  printed  matter  I  ever  read,  before  or  since." 
Many  might  recount  a  similar  experience. — Sir  Philip 
Sidney  tells  us  how  his  soldierly  nature  was  wont  to  be 
moved,  "  more  than  with  a  trumpet,"  whenever  he  heard 
the  ballad  of  Chevy  Chace.^  So  has  many  a  heart  thrilled 
while  reading  the  daring  feats  of  the  Irish  Brigade  in 
Davis's  stirring  ballad  of  Fontenoy.  And  who  has  not 
been  moved  at  the  story  of  that  other  Brigade — ''  noble 
six-hundred," — headed  by  the  gallant  and  intrepid  Nolan, 
in  obedience  to  a  blundering  order,  walking  into  the  val- 
ley of  death  ?  \ 

Moreover,  the  Church  has  from  the  beginning  made 
use  of  spiritual  canticles  to  excite  devotion  and  inculcate 
doctrine  into  the  hearts  of  the  faithful.  The  Benedictus 
of  Zachary,  the  Nunc  Dimittis  of  Simeon,  the  Magnificat 
of  Mary  ever  Virgin,  are  recorded  in  the  Gospel.  Then 
we  have  the  beautiful  hymns  of  Hilary  and  Prudentius 
and  Ambrose  and  Bernard  and  Aquinas,  all  consecrating 
times  and  seasons  according  to  the  spirit  of  the  Church. 
And  who  has  not  felt  the  power  of  those  two  magnificent 
hymns,  the  Stabat  Mater  and  the  Dies  Tree  ? — England  in 
her  early  Catholic  days  possessed  an  abundant  harvest  of 
Catholic  poems  in  the  mother-speech;  especially  was  she 

*  Defence  of  Poesy ^  ed.  A.  S.  Cook,  p.  92. 

t  See  the  graphic  sketch  of  that  charge,  and  of  the  gallantry  of  Cap- 
tain Nolan,  in  Kinglake's  History  of  the  Crimean  War,  vol,  ii.,  pp. 
548-592. 


Poetry  and  Culture,  6y 

rich  in  canticles  in  honor  of  Mary  Immaculate.  Nay,  the 
very  springs  in  the  valleys,  the  very  flowers  in  the  field, 
the  very  plays  and  amusements  of  children  were  called 
after  Mary,  and  so  great  was  devotion  to  the  Blessed 
Mother  of  God  that  the  whole  island  was  known  as  our 
Lady's  Dowry.*  You  all  remember  Chaucer's  two  beau- 
tiful tributes  to  Our  Blessed  Lady,  the  one  a  transla- 
tion from  the  French  of  Guillaume  de  Deguileville,  and 
known  as  The  A  B  C  of  Queen  Blanche;  the  other,  that 
magnificent  translation  from  the  Purgatorio  of  Dante 
which  introduces  The  Prioress'  Tale.  The  nineteenth 
century  seems  to  have  caught  up  some  echoes  of  this  de- 
votion to  Mary,  and  so  Keble  in  his  Lyra  In7ioce?}imm^ 
and  Walter  Scott  in  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  and  Byron 
in  Don  Juan,  and  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  and  Wordsworth 
in  his  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets, — all  have  paid  beautiful 
tributes  to  her  whom  the  last-named  has  so  nobly 
called — 

**  Our  tainted  nature's  solitary  boast." 
In  Cardinal  Newman's  Verses  on  Various  Occasioiis,  and 
Father  Faber's  Hymns,  and  Aubrey  de  Vere's  May  Carols, 
we  have  the  out-pourings  of  the  modern  Catholic  heart  to 
this  Queen  of  Song.  Thus  it  is  that  poetry  from  the  be- 
gmning  has  been  the  handmaid  of  religion.  It  is  no  less 
the  handmaid  of  patriotism. 

*  See  Father  Bridgett's  admirable  book,  Our  Lady's  Dowry, 
passim.  The  Early  English  Text  Society  have  gathered  many  of  the 
poems  m  honor  of  the  Blessed  Virgin. 


68  Books  and  Reading. 


Who  can  calculate  the  extent  to  which  Moore's  Melo- 
dies^ sung  in  the  drawing-rooms  of  English  society,  aided 
O'Connell  in  his  gigantic  labor  of  securing  Catholic 
Emancipation  ? — What  Scotchman  can  read  unmoved 
Burns's  fiery  lyrics,  especially  his  Bannockburn?  And  note 
the  frenzy  that  possesses  French  republicans  at  the 
singing  or  reciting  of  the  Marseillaise.  Again,  when,  in 
the  midst  of  much  tinsel  and  tawdry  in  Lalla  Rookh, 
Moore  is  seized  with  the  fire  of  patriotic  inspiration,  and 
he  pens  The  Fire-Worshippers ,  in  which  the  veil  of  dis- 
guise is  most  transparent — for  what  is  Iran  but  Erin  ? — 
note  how  strong  and  vigorous  his  lines  become;  so  much 
so  that  they  deserve  to  be  translated  into  the  mother- 
speech  of  another  oppressed  people,  and  to  become  their 
consoler  in  the  misery  that  overwhelmed  them,  and 
forthwith  the  Poles  take  home  to  their  bosoms  the  great 
Irish  bard.* 

But  returning  to  the  individual  influence  of  poetry,  let 
me  remark  that  its  range  is  so  wide,  and  its  degrees  are 
so  varied,  each,  according  to  disposition  and  mental 
aptitude,  will  find  somewhere  in  the  poetic  literature  of 
the  language  a  strain,  a  chord,  that  will  awaken  in  his 
soul  a  responsive  vibration;  his  soul  will  have  grown 
to  a  more  rounded  completeness  for  having  found 
music  in  that  chord.  You  may  say  that  you  do  not  like 
poetry,  or  that  you  cannot  read  poetry.     It  is  because  you 

*  Life  of  Archbishop  Mac  Hale,  by  Mgr,  Bernard  O'Reilly,  vol.  ii., 
P-  634- 


Poetry  and  Culture,  69 


have  not  struck  the  right  rhythmic  note  to  which  your 
aesthetic  sense  corresponds.  You  may  find  Tennyson 
too  refined,  or  Browning  too  obscure,  or  Shelley  too 
vague,  or  Milton  too  ponderous,  or  Shakespeare  too  diffi- 
cult. Perhaps  in  the  natural  glow  of  Burns's  lines — for 
instance  his  Highland  Mary^  or  To  Mary  in  Heaven^  or 
Lines  on  a  Daisy, — your  soul  will  become  enkindled;  per- 
haps you  will  catch  patriotic  fire  from  the  stirring  verses 
of  Davis,  at  the  same  time  so  full  of  vigor  and  tenderness; 
perhaps  in  Mangan  or  Gerald  Griffin  you  will  find  the 
keynote  to  your  temper  and  thought;  perhaps  the  simple 
grace  and  polish  of  Goldsmith  or  Parnell  will  suit  you 
better;  perhaps  the  simple  naturalness  of  Cowper  will 
please  you;  perhaps  the  pathetic  story  of  Evangeline  will 
go  home  to  your  heart;  perhaps  in  the  luscious  lines  of 
that  *'  idle  singer  of  an  empty  day,"  William  Morris,  you 
will  find  what  shall  please  you  best;  perhaps  it  is  the  clear- 
cut  finish  of  Austin  Dobson,  or  Edmund  Gosse,  or  the 
Rossettis,  or  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  that  you  prefer; 
perhaps  you  will  find  the  simple  and  placid  directness  of 
Coventry  Patmore  to  suit  your  taste,  and  you  will  admire 
hi^  Angel  in  the  House  as  ardently  as  did  Ruskin  ;  perhaps  it 
is  the  rapid  movement  of  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake  that 
will  stir  you;  perhaps  the  pleasant  lines  of  Whittier's 
Snow-Bound ;  perhaps  the  noble  heart-throbs  of  John 
Boyle  O'Reilly;  perhaps.  .  .  .  but  why  continue  ?  Some- 
where the  chord  exists  that  will  appeal  to  your  nature 
and  disposition  with  effect,  and  will  evoke  a  correspond- 


70     '  Books  and  Reading. 

ing  attunement.  The  vivid  imagination  that  enables 
children  to  live  in  a  world  all  their  own,  peopled  with 
beings  of  their  own  creation;  that  imagination  with 
which  the  little  girl  speaks  to  her  dolls,  and  fancies 
them  sick,  or  injured,  or  naughty;  that  imagination  with 
which  the  little  boy  bestrides  his  wooden  horse,  or  mar- 
shals his  tin  soldiers  in  battle  array,  or  talks  in  terms 
of  intimacy  with  the  domestic  animals, — that  imagination 
is  not  extinct  in  the  grown  man  or  woman;  it  is  only 
dormant.  It  may  yet  be  awakened  to  construct  noble 
ideals  of  life  subservient  to  reason  and  experience.  You 
say  you  do  not  like  poetry;  why,  then,  are  you  moved 
by  the  Exile  of  Erin  of  Thomas  Campbell,  or  the  Home, 
Sweet  Home  of  John  Howard  Payne  ?  Here  it  is  heart 
speaking  to  heart.  * 

It  is  not  always  the  great  poets  that  will  reach  the  in- 
ner feelings  of  your  heart.  Even  eminent  authors  and 
thinkers  have  not  invariably  taken  to  the  great  poets. 
Shelley  admired  the  spiritual  beauty  and  the  noble  ideals 
in  Spenser's  poetry,  and  held  in  slight  esteem  Ariosto, 
whom  Spenser  only  too  closely  followed  in  his  Faeiy 
Queene ;    Byron   was   an  ardent   admirer  and   constant 

*  It  is  pleasant  to  record  that  the  weary  spirit  of  Payne,  after 
roaming  through  many  lands,  found  at  last  a  haven  and  a  resting- 
place  in  the  Catholic  Church  upon  hi.s  death  bed  in  Tunis — and  his 
bones  have  been  brought  home  to  his  native  soil,  through  the  kindness 
and  munificence  of  his  old  schoolmate,  the  late  W.  W.  Corcoran  of 
Washington. 


Poetry  and  Culture. 


reader  of  Ariosto,  but  could  make  nothing  of  Spenser. 
Nor  could  Byron  appreciate  Wordsworth,  and  yet  Words- 
worth's influence  for  good  is  traceable  in  the  last  two 
cantos  of  Childe  Harold.  Wordsworth  held  all  his  con- 
temporaries— Coleridge  excepted — in  low  estimation. 
Newman  prized  Crabbe  in  a  special  manner,  even  as  did 
that  other  great  master  of  prose,  Edmund  Burke,  and  re- 
garded his  Tales  of  the  Hall  with  an  abiding  affection,  * 
but  never  could  bring  himself  to  read  Dante;  and  yet, 
in  the  tender  and  serenely  classic  and  highly  philosophi- 
cal Dream  of  Gerontm,  Newman  has  bequeathed  to 
English  literature  a  poem  thoroughly  Dantesque  in  its 
conception  and  in  its  underlying  ideas.  Still,  Newman 
and  Dante  were  kindred  souls  in  many  respects.  Both 
were  intensely  active  in  early  life,  the  one  in  the  sphere 
of  religion  and  the  other  in  that  of  politics;  both  after- 
wards dwelt  apart  from  the  world  and  from  their  old 
life;  both  had  no  sympathy  with  what  were  considered 
the  advanced  views  of  their  age;  both  were  men  of 
acute  intellects,  fond  of  speculation;  both  were  pro- 
foundly philosophical.  Who  but  Dante  could  realize,  as 
Newman  did,  the  separation  of  soul  and  body,  and  the 
thoughts  that  might  belong  to  the  soul  as  it  steps  across 
the  threshold  of  eternity,  still  thinking  in  the  grooves 
of  time  and  space  when  time  and  space  are  no  more  ? — 
Considered  in  this  light,  the  Dream  of  Gerontius  is  a  mar- 
vellous poem. 

*  See  Idea  of  a  University,  fifth  edition,  p.  150. 


72  Books  and  Reading. 

And  so,  while  I  would  gladly  see  you  familiarize  your- 
selves with  the  highest  and  the  best  in  literature,  if  your 
tastes  lead  you  by  preference  to  the  lesser  poets,  by  all 
means  enjoy  them.  Indeed,  I  would  recommend  to 
those  whose  reading  in  the  line  of  poetry  has  been  limited, 
to  begin  with  a  poet  of  homely  phrase  and  pleasant 
thought — some  one 

"  No  singer  vast  of  voice,  yet  one  who  leaves 
His  native  air  the  sweeter  for  his  song."* 

Later  on,  the  poets  requiring  more  concentrated  at- 
tention and  a  certain  amount  of  mental  discipline  for 
their  appreciation,  may  claim  your  best  thought  to  ad- 
vantage. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  I  cannot  better  explain  the  subject 
of  poetry  than  by  dwelling  for  a  moment,  in  a  manner 
however  scant,  upon  the  three  poets  that  have  best 
caught  up  and  sung  to  us  the  message  that  this  century 
now  declining  in  her  last  decade  would  bequeath  us. 
They  are  all  three  of  them  worthy  of  our  attention. 
Could  any  remarks  of  mine  lead  you  to  a  careful  study 
and  just  appreciation  of  them,  I  would  feel  well  repaid. 
In  their  highest  and  best  flights  you  will  find  some  of 
the  noblest  ideals  of  truth  and  loveliness  ever  conceived 
by  human  brain. 

*  William  Watson,  •'  On  Longfellow's  Death."  Wordsworth's  Gravt 
and  othet  Poems.     London,  p.  69. 


Wordsworth.  73 


IX. 

I.  Wordsworth's  influence  upon  the  thought  and 
character  of  this  century  has  been  strong,  deep,  and 
abiding.  He  it  was  who  fired  and  moulded  the  poetic 
genius  of  Aubrey  de  Vere.  The  poet  has  left  us  a 
charming  record  of  the  manner  in  which  he  first  fell 
under  the  influence  of  his  great  master  from  the  reading 
of  Laodamia.  We  will  let  him  describe  how  the  reading  of 
that  poem  weaned  him  from  his  extravagant  admiration 
for  Byron.  "Some  strong,  calm  hand,"  he  says, 
"  seemed  to  have  been  laid  on  my  head,  and  bound  me 
to  the  spot  till  I  had  come  to  the  end.  As  I  read,  a 
new  world,  hitherto  unimagined,  opened  itself  out, 
stretching  far  away  into  serene  infinitudes.  The  re- 
gion was  one  to  me  unknown,  but  the  harmony  of  the 
picture  attested  its  reality.  Above  and  around  were  in- 
deed 

An  ampler  ether,  a  diviner  air, 
And  fields  invested  with  purpureal  gleams; 
and  when  I  reached  the  line — 

Calm  pleasures  there  abide— majestic  pains, 

I  felt  that  no  tenants  less  stately  were  fit  to  walk  in  so 
lordly  a  precinct.  I  had  been  translated  into  another 
planet  of  song— one  with  larger  movements  and  a  longer 
year.  A  wider  conception  of  poetry  had  become  mine, 
and  the  Byronian  enthusiasm  fell  from  me  like  a  bond 
broken  by  being  outgrown."  * 
*  Essays  chiefly  on  Poetry,  vol  ii.,  pp.  289,  290. 


74  Books  and  Reading. 

No  less  true  is  it — though  not  so  generally  known — 
that  Wordsworth  helped  to  mould  the  character  of 
Thomas  Davis.  "  The  ideals  he  found  in  Wordsworth," 
says  Justice  O'Hagan,  ''especially  the  ideal  of  a  pure 
and  exalted  love  of  country,  took  full  possession  of 
him/'*  His  influence  upon  John  Stuart  Mill  was  no 
less  marked.  The  first  reading  of  Wordsworth's  poems 
was  an  epoch  in  that  philosopher's  life.  "  What  made 
his  poems  a  medicine  for  my  state  of  mind/'  he  tells  us, 
"  was  that  they  expressed  not  mere  outward  beauty,  but 
states  of  feeling  and  of  thought  colored  by  feeling 
under  the  excitement  of  beauty.  I  needed  to  be  made  to 
feel  that  there  was  real  permanent  happiness  in  tranquil 
contemplation.  Wordsworth  taught  me  this,  not  only 
without  turning  away  from,  but  with  greatly  increased 
interest  in,  the  common  feelings  and  the  common  destiny 
of  human  beings."  \  Poetry  influencing  types  of  char- 
acter as  distinct  as  Aubrey  de  Vere,  the  poet,  Thomas 
Davis,  the  patriot,  and  John  Stuart  Mill,  the  philosopher, 
must  indeed  contain  an  element  of  strength  worthy  of 
your  serious  consideration. 

That  influence  was  not  cheaply  purchased.  Its  founda- 
tions were  laid  in  deep  meditation  and  in  life-long  study. 
Wordsworth  was  a  most  careful  composer.  He  spared 
no  pains  to  get  the  fitting  word  or  strike  upon  the  proper 
phrase.     Caroline  Fox,  commenting  upon  what  was  con- 

*  Contemporary  Review y  Oct.,  1890. 
t  Autobtography,  p.  148. 


Wordsworth.  75 


sidered  the  verbosity  of  Browning,  wrote:  "Doth  he 
know  that  Wordsworth  will  devote  a  fortnight  or  more 
to  the  discovery  of  the  single  word  that  is  the  one  fit 
for  his  sonnet  ? "  *  His  was  the  conscientious  work  of 
the  conscientious  teacher.  He  was  wont  to  say:  "  Every 
great  poet  is  a  teacher;  I  wish  to  be  considered  as  a 
teacher,  or  as  nothing/'  From  the  first,  he  believed  in 
his  mission;  through  long  and  weary  years,  with  but 
scant  recognition,  he  labored  at  his  mission,  and  finally 
his  genius  shone  forth  through  the  clouds  of  prejudice, 
and  he  triumphed  in  the  achievement  of  that  mission  as 
a  teacher.  And  what  is  the  lesson  he  would  convey  in 
his  noble  lines? — 

We  should  bring  to  the  reading  of  him  a  disposition 
to  sit  humbly  and  thoughtfully  at  his  feet,  and  to  re- 
ceive his  lesson  in  the  spirit  in  which  he  gives  it.  And 
if  I  can  point  out  to  you  what  you  may  expect  to  find, 
and  what  not  to  find,  in  his  poetry,  I  conceive  that  I 
will  be  making  your  task  all  the  lighter.  But  withal,  a 
serious  task  it  is  to  measure  the  full  length  and  breadth 
and  height  and  depth  of  Wordsworth,  and  to  feel  at 
home  in  the  trains  of  thought  he  would  evolve.  You 
will  meet  whole  lines,  sometimes  whole  poems,  written 
in  a  bald  and  creeping  style;  you  will  hit  upon  the  men- 
tion of  a  trivial  incident,  or  the  employment  of  a  trivial 
phrase,  apparently  marring  what  you  would  otherwise 
call  a  beautiful  conception;  and  it  is  out  of  such  barren 


*  Handbook  to  Browning s  Works,  p.  11. 


"j^  Books  and  Reading. 

plains  of  expression  that  rise  up  some  of  the  noblest 
passages  in  our  literature. 

Wordsworth  invests  the  material  universe  with  a  new 
dignity  by  making  it,  in  his  own  peculiar  manner,  the 
companion  of  man,  a  something  to  be  communed  with 
in  its  manifold  aspects.  He  educates  the  human  senses 
to  a  keener  perception  of  vision  and  sound.  Indeed, 
the  poet  may  be  said  in  a  measure  to  have  imparted 
thought  to  sense  and  speech  to  inert  matter.  He  re- 
garded Nature  with  a  spiritual  discernment,  reading  her 
meanings  and  her  teachings  as  no  other  poet  had  read 
them.  The  careful  study  of  his  poetry  in  a  spirit  of 
sympathy  is  in  itself  an  education.  Mr.  Walter  Pater 
says  very  aptly:  "The  constant  suggestion  of  an  ab- 
solute duality  between  higher  and  lower  moods,  and  the 
work  done  in  them,  stimulating  one  always  to  look  below 
the  surface,  makes  the  reading  of  Wordsworth  an  ex- 
cellent sort  of  training  towards  the  things  of  art  and 
poetry.  It  begets  in  those  who,  coming  across  him  in 
youth,  can  bear  him  at  all,  a  habit  of  reading  between 
the  lines,  a  faith  in  the  effect  of  concentration  and 
collectedness  of  mind  in  the  right  appreciation  of  poetry, 
an  expectation  of  things,  in  this  order,  coming  to  one 
by  means  of  a  right  discipline  of  the  temper  as  well 
as  of  the  intellect.  He  meets  us  with  the  promise  that 
he  has  much,  and  something  very  peculiar,  to  give  us, 
if  we  will  follow  a  certain  difficult  way,  and  seems  to 
have  the  secret  of  a  special  and  privileged  state  of  mind. 


Wordsworth.  77 


And  those  who  have  undergone  his  influence,  and  fol- 
lowed this  difficult  way,  are  like  people  who  have  passed 
through  some  initiation,  a  discipima  arcani,  by  submitting 
to  which  they  become  able  constantly  to  distinguish  in 
art,  speech,  feeling,  manners,  that  which  is  organic,  ani- 
mated, expressive,  from  that  which  is  only  conventional, 
derivative,  inexpressive."* 

This  estimate,  deliberate  as  it  is  scholarly,  will  enable 
you  to  appreciate  the  force  of  Wordsworth's  influence 
upon  those  who  submit  to  his  spell.  He  is  the  poet  of 
Nature  in  a  sense  distinct  from  that  in  which  we  can 
apply  the  same  epithet  to  any  other  poet.  He  is  un- 
wearied, as  so  many  another  poet  has  been  unwearied, 
in  describing  every  varying  shade  of  expression  in  his 
favorite  haunts.  And  these  descriptions,  unlike  those 
of  other  poets,  are  not  merely  an  exhaustive  list  of  what 
the  eye  beholds;  they  are  an  embodiment  of  the  senti- 
ment that  haunts  the  place  he  would  describe;  they  ex- 
press the  outcome  of  a  complex  variety  of  impressions 
when  the  human  spirit  grows  in  sympathetic  touch  with 
the  animating  principle  of  Nature. 

In  lifting  Nature  up  to  the  sphere  of  companionship 
with  man,  Wordsworth  introduced  a  new  element  into 
modern  poetry.  He  awakened  in  man  consciousness  of 
the  expression  of  Nature,  and  imparted  to  him  the  sense 
of  interpreting  this  expression.  He  initiated  man  into 
the  moods  in  which  he  might  best  hear  and  best  read 

*  Appreciations^  p.  40. 


78  Books  and  Reading. 


this  interpretation.  He  tells  us  that  he  himself  learned 
to  view  Nature — not  as  in  the  hour  of  thoughtless  youth 
with  all  its  aching  joys,  and  all  its  dizzy  raptures, 

** but  hearing  oftentimes 

The  still,  sad  music  of  humanity, 
Nor  harsh  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 
To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  felt 
A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 
Of  elevated  thoughts  ;   a  sense  sublime 
Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 
Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 
And  the  round  ocean,  and  the  living  air, 
And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man; 
A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 
All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 
And  rolls  through  all  things."  * 

Let  us  not  become  alarmed  at  some  expressions  in 
this  magnificent  quotation.  Wordsworth  is  no  panthe- 
ist, f  His  are  Christian  feelings,  and  he  thinks  in  a 
Christian  spirit.  The  presence  he  recognizes  in  Nature 
is  that  Supreme  Power  whom  he  thus  apostrophizes  else- 
where: 

" O  Power  Supreme, 


Without  Whose  call  this  world  would  cease  to  breathe, 
Who  from  the  fountain  of  Thy  grace  dost  fill 
The  veins  that  branch  through  every  frame  of  life, 
Making  man  what  he  is,  creature  divine, 

*  Lines  above  Tin  tern  Abbey. 

t  See  Aubrey  de  Vere's  "  Recollections  of  Wordsworth,"  Essays,  vol. 
ii.,  p.  282. 


Wordsworth,  79 


In  single  or  in  social  eminence, 
Above  the  rest  raised  infinite  ascents 
When  reason  that  enables  him  to  be 
Is  not  sequestered."  * 

"  To  that  Personal  God,"  says  Aubrey  de  Vere,  '*  he 
paid  dutiful  reverence  in  life  and  song.  Had  he  lost 
his  hold  of  Religion,  he  would  have  lost  Nature  also,  for 
to  him  she  would  have  been  Nature  no  longer.  As  it 
was,  in  all  her  manifestations,  whether  in  shape  or  in 
color,  in  movement  or  at  rest,  from  the  most  awe-inspir- 
ing of  her  forms  to  the  most  fugitive  of  her  smiles,  he 
recognized  divinely-appointed  ministers  parleying  with 
man's  spirit,  the  quickeners  of  its  finest  impulses.  How 
much  the  human  mind  conferred  upon  Nature,  and  how 
much  Nature  conferred  upon  the  human  mind,  he  did 
not  affect  to  determine;  but  to  each  its  function  came 
from  God,  and  life  below  was  one  long,  mystic  colloquy 
between  the  twin-born  powers,  whispering  together  of 
immortality/'  *  This  is  a  poet's  interpretation  of  the 
poet  to  whom  he  looked  up  with  sympathy  and  rever- 
ence^ every  line  of  whose  poetry  he  studied,  and  every 
phase  of  whose  genius  he  explored. 

But  the  Nature  that  Wordsworth  deals  with  is  Nature 
as  ministering  to  man  and  influencing  him,  apart  from 
all  the  artificial  elements  that  enter  into  the  moulding 
of  his  character  and  the  imparting  of  false  tastes  and 

*  The  Prelude,  book  x. 

*  Essays,  vol.  i.,  p.  105. 


8o  Books  and  Reading. 

false  standards  of  truth,  beauty,  and  excellence.  There- 
fore does  he  take  human  life  in  its  lowliest  spheres  of 
action,  and  weave  about  it  a  halo  of  poetry — or  rather, 
draw  out  and  hold  up  in  artistic  form,  for  all  time,  the 
ideal  belonging  to  all  such  life  and  action,  and  inherent  in 
the  simplest  object  of  creation.  This  is  indeed  to  bring 
our  views  of  things  nearer  to  the  Divine  vision  of  them. 
And  so  the  poet  deals  by  preference  with  the  humblest 
peasant  life  rooted  in  the  soil — the  life  that  other  poets 
have  thought  beneath  their  notice.  Browning  tells  us 
that  the  artist  *'  lifts  his  fellows,  with  their  half-appre- 
hensions, up  to  his  own  sphere,  by  intensifying  the 
import  of  details,  and  rounding  the  universal  meaning."  * 
He  grasps  the  type  and  leaves  the  individual;  better 
still,  he  describes  the  individual  in  relation  to  the  type. 
Beneath  the  accidents  he  perceives  the  substance.  This 
in  an  especial  manner  has  been  Wordsworth's  mode  of 
procedure  in  dealing  with  human  life.  His  poetic  vision 
sees  beneath  the  ordinary  routine  of  every-day  life  a 
whole  world  of  sensation  and  emotion  hidden  away  from 
the  prosaic  observer: 

"Joy  spreads,  and  sorrow  spreads;  and  this  whole  vale, 
Home  of  untutored  shepherds  as  it  is, 
Swarms  with  sensation^  as  with  gleams  of  sunshine. 
Shadows  and  breezes,  scetJts  and  sounds.''^ 

A  suppressed  glow  of  warmth,  all  the  more  forcible 
for  its  being  held  in  check,  pervades  his  lines.     They 

*  Essay  on  Shelley. 


Wordsworth.  8 1 


thrill  with  the  sensations  he  breathed  into  them.  Be- 
neath the  unruffled  routine  of  peasant  life,  he  feels  the 
peasant's  pulse,  and  reads  his  every  thought  and  inter- 
prets his  every  sigh.  In  this  respect  Wordsworth  is  not 
unlike  Millet. 

The  genius  of  Millet  consists  wholly  in  his  power  of 
idealizing  simple  peasant  life  upon  the  canvas.  And  so 
we  find  his  peasant  men  and  women,  with  their  plain 
faces  and  their  homely  work-a-day  clothes,  now  sowing 
the  seed,  now  reaping  the  harvest,  now  attending  to 
their  ordinary  indoor  and  outdoor  duties,  represented 
with  great  naturalness,  but  also  with  great  dignity. 
You  stand  before  his  masterpiece,  The  Angelus.  There 
you  behold  nature  in  her  simple  and  unadorned  aspect: 
the  field  stretching  far,  far  away  into  the  horizon,  the 
sky  into  which  the  clouds  are  slowly  gathering,  the 
spire  of  the  village  church  in  the  distance,  the  wheel- 
barrow, the  fork  stuck  in  the  ground,  the  man,  his 
hat  in  both  hands  and  his  head  slightly  bent,  something 
peculiarly  sturdy  and  manlike  in  his  attitude,  the  woman 
with  hands  clasped  and  eyes  bent  down — both  at  the 
sound  of  the  Angelus  bell  from  the  distant  spire  wrapped 
in  prayer,  forgetful  of  each  other  and  of  all  around 
them,  forgetful  of  the  toil  and  the  heat  of  the  day. 
That  prayerful  attitude  of  those  simple  peasants  ideal- 
izes the  whole  scene.  It  is  no  longer  the  brown  earth 
that  is  reflected  in  the  sun-burnt  features.  It  is  souls. 
The  spiritual  world  mingles  with  the  material  world; 


82  Books  and  Reading. 


heaven  becomes  blended  with  earth,  and  God's  presence 
is  felt. 

Even  so  it  is  with  Wordsworth.  In  his  We  are  Seven, 
in  his  sublime  Ode  on  Immortality,  in  his  Michael,  in  whole 
books  of  The  Excursion,  you  perceive  beneath  the  sim. 
pie  narrative  a  linking  of  the  spiritual  with  the  material, 
sometimes  a  nearing  of  earth  to  heaven — the  whole  uni- 
verse a  shell  bespeaking  communion  with  its  native  sea 
of  God's  Immensity  and  Omnipotence;  or,  putting  the 
image  in  Wordsworth's  own  magnificent  language:  — 

— "  I  have  seen 

A  curious  child  who  dwelt  upon  a  tract 

Of  inland  ground,  applyinf;  to  his  ear 

The  convolutions  of  a  smooth-lipped  shell; 

To  which,  in  silence  hushed,  his  very  soul 

Listened  intensely  ;  and  his  countenance  soon 

Brightened  Avith  joy  ;   for  from  within  were  heard 

Murmuiings,  whereby  the  monitor  expressed 

Mysterious  union  with  its  native  sea. 

Even  such  a  shell  the  universe  itself 

Is  to  the  ear  of  Faith  ;   and  there  are  times, 

I  doubt  not,  when  to  you  it  doth  impart 

Authentic  tidings  of  invisible  things  ; 

Of  ebb  and  flow,  and  ever-during  power  ; 

And  central  peace,  subsisting  at  the  heart 

Of  endless  agitation."  * 

As  Millet  carries  the  spectator  from  outward  appear- 
ances to  something  beyond,  so  does  Wordsworth  bear 
his  reader  along  the  majestic  flow  of  his  verse,  till  the 

*   The  Excursion,  book  iv. 


Wordszvorth.  83 


reader  has  entered  into  sympathy,  not  only  \vith  the  hum- 
ble cottagers,  but  with  the  domestic  animals  that  share 
their  cares,  and  the  scenes  in  which  they  live.  He  has 
shown  how  dignity  and  human  tenderness  are  to  be 
found  among  the  squalid  poor:— 

'*  There  I  heard, 

From  mouths  of  men  obscure  and  lowly,  truths 

Replete  with  honor;  sounds  in  unison 

With  loftiest  promises  of  good  and  fair."  * 

He  has  shown  how  human  impulse  and  human  passion, 
tears  and  laughter,  commingle  with  the  caring  of  sheep 
and  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  He  has  shown  how 
meekness  and  humility,  and  simple  ways  and  the  steady 
pursuit  of  duty,  are  the  roads  to  true  greatness.  He  has 
shown  how  strength  is  not  passion,  or  impulse,  or  way- 
wardness— 

''Meekness  is  the  ciierished  bent 
Of  all  the  truly  great  and  all  the  innocent — "  t 

but  rather  that  it  lies  in  the  subduing,  and  controlling, 
and  directing  of  these  things. 

We  are  now  in  position  to  understand  how  difficult  it 
is  for  one  in  full  sympathy  with  the  poetry  of  Words- 
worth to  continue  to  admire  Byron.  The  methods,  the 
point  of  view,  the  temper  of  soul  of  each  can  be  brought 
together  only  to  be  contrasted.  You  follow  Byron 
upon  his  pilgrimage  through  Southern  Europe.  You 
are  at  once  impressed  with  the  magnificent  swing  of  his 

*  Prelude,  book  xiii.  t    Works,  p.  729. 


84  Books  and  Reading. 

lines,  the  ease  and  vigor  with  which  he  grasps  and  inter- 
prets a  splendid  scene  or  a  great  work  of  art,  the  vivid- 
ness and  directness  of  his  descriptions,  the  power  with 
which  he  gives  out  the  impressions  that  he  receives. 
You  are  compelled  to  respect  his  faculty  of  observation 
and  his  accuracy  of  description.  But  his  soul  vibrates 
only  to  the  great,  the  tragic,  the  magnificent  in  nature 
and  art.  Rome,  Venice,  Waterloo;  the  haunts  or  homes 
of  men  whom  he  holds  in  admiration,  such  as  Dante, 
Rousseau,  Voltaire;  gigantic  structures,  such  as  St.  Peter's 
and  the  Coliseum;  grand  or  subhme  scenery,  such  as  the 
Alps,  the  ocean.  Lake  Leman;  the  scenes  of  a  tragic 
story,  such  as  Chillon,  or  the  Palace  of  the  Doges:  these 
are  the  themes  to  which 

"He  struck  his  harp,  and  nations  heard  entranced."  * 
All  Europe  fell  for  awhile  under  the  spell  of  his  genius. 
Even  at  this  hour,  you  cannot  read  his  finer  descriptive 
passages  without  feeling  your  soul  thrill.  But  he  was 
lacking  besides  in  many  of  all  those  qualities  that  go  to 
make  up  true  greatness.  He  had  no  steadiness  of  pur- 
pose; he  had  no  moral  consistency.  His  philosophy 
was  the  musings  of  a  misanthrope.  He  had  the  mor- 
bidness of  Leopardi,  without  the  literary  polish  or  the 
intellectual  consistency  of  the  great  poet  of  Pessimism. 
Those  staying  qualities  that  come  of  severe  study  and 
calm  meditation  were  not  his;  and  therefore,  in  spite  of 
his  great  natural  endowments,  and  the  fitful  lights  that 

*  Pollock,  Cotnse  of  Time, 


Wordsworth.  85 


flash  through  his  lurid  genius,  he  has  ceased  to  be  an 
influencing  power  in  literature.  He  is  the  poet  of  wild 
unrest.  On  the  other  hand,  Wordsworth  is  the  poet  of  the 
simple,  the  lowly,  the  commonplace,  and  the  spiritual  in 
Nature  and  in  human  life.  His  ideals  are  those  of  re- 
pose, cheerfulness,  and  contentment. 

Wordsworth,  though  a  High-Church  Tory,  abounding 
in  strong  anti-Catholic  prejudices,  was  not  aggressive 
towards  the  Church  in  his  poetry.  Several  of  his  Ec- 
clesiastical Sonnets  are  very  Catholic.  There  is  a  pathos 
in  the  tenderness  with  which  he  alludes  to  the  old  ab- 
beys. Feeling  that  he  recorded  their  fall  "  untouched 
by  due  regret,"  he  finally  exclaims: 

**  Once  ye  were  holy,  ye  are  holy  still; 
Your  spirit  freely  let  me  drink,  and  live  !  " 

Catholicity  will  always  be  at  home  wherever  there  is 
genuine  poetical  inspiration.  Aubrey  de  Vere,  giving 
his  personal  recollections  of  the  poet,  says:  "Words- 
worth was ....  in  his  prose  mind,  strongly  anti-Roman 
Catholic,  largely  on  political  grounds;  but  that  it  was 
otherwise  as  regards  his  mind  poetic  is  obvious  from 
many  passages  in  his  Christian  poetry,  especially  those 
which  refer  to  the  monastic  system  and  the  School- 
men, and  his  sonnet  on  the  Blessed  Virgin.  ...  He 
used  to  say  that  the  idea  of  one  who  was  both  Virgin 
and  Mother  had  sunk  so  deep  into  the  heart  of  humanity, 
that  there  it  must  ever  remain  fixed."  * 

*  Essays,  vol.  ii.,  p.  283. 


86  Books  and  Reading. 


X. 

2.  The  first  thing  that  strikes  you  when  entering  upon 
a  study  of  Browning  is  that  there  are  two  clearly  defined 
camps  into  which  students  of  literature  are  divided  re- 
garding him.  The  one  will  tell  you  that  he  is  little  more 
than  a  literary  mountebank,  tricky  in  expression  and  mis- 
leading in  idea;  that,  read  him  as  you  may,  back  or  forth^ 
you  cannot  fathom  him;  that  after  spending  time  and 
trouble  upon  him,  you  have  your  labor  for  your  pains. 
The  other  camp  is  equally  decided  that  Browning  is  the 
only  poet  of  the  period  worth  studying;  that  he  is  at  the 
very  least  the  peer  of  Shakspere;  that  there  are  hidden 
treasures  buried  beneath  his  rugged  verses,  if  you  will 
only  labor  patiently  enough  and  examine  carefully 
enough  the  matter  and  form  of  his  poems.  Now,  with- 
out going  into  either  extreme,  let  us  deliberately  invest- 
igate the  merits  of  this  energetic  and  voluminous  writer. 
As  the  result  of  my  own  reading,  I  must  say  that  Brown- 
ing stands  out  pre-eminently  a  great  poet.  This  we 
may  acknowledge  without  being  blind  to  his  shortcom- 
ings and  his  defects.  The  mastering  of  him  is  no  slight 
labor,  but  it  is  a  labor  that  well  repays.  However,  it  is 
a  study  that  I  would  not  recommend  to  children  in  years, 
or  to  children  in  mind.  His  subject-matter  is  frequently 
such  as  not  every  one  can  look  full  in  the  face.  It  deals 
with  nearly  every  phase  of  the  morbid  and  the  abnormal 
in  human  nature.  But  in  his  treatment  of  such  subject- 
matter  the  poet  is  never  sentimental,  and  never  attempts 


Browning.  Sy 


to  carry  the  reader's  sympathies  along  with  crime  or  false- 
hood. In  his  mode  of  handling  the  most  delicate  themes 
there  is  a  robustness  that  is  invigorating.  Not  that  the 
reader  can  always  accept  his  artistic  interpretations  of 
scenes,  incidents,  or  events.  So,  too,  does  his  form  of 
expression  sound  rugged  and  harsh  to  the  ear,  and  not 
unfrequently  is  it  long-drawn-out.  But  the  rhythm  is 
complex,  and  the  sense  is  involved,  and  this  it  is  that 
renders  it  so  difficult  to  decipher  his  poems.  Nor  can 
we  quarrel  with  the  poet  or  his  work  on  that  account. 
If  the  artistic  conditions  under  which  he  constructs 
his  poems  are  novel  and  do  not  fit  into  our  present 
standards  of  criticism,  it  remains  for  us— it  is  the  part 
of  all  wise  criticism — to  sit  humbly  at  the  poet's  feet  and 
enlarge  our  standards.  A  few  years  ago  the  music  of 
Wagner  was  only  discord  to  ears  attuned  to  the  music 
of  Mozart  and  Beethoven;  surely,  no  one  will  deny  to- 
day that  Wagner  has  enlarged  the  possibilities  of  music- 
al expression.  Even  so  is  it  with  Browning.  He  has 
added  a  new  form  to  poetical  expression,  in  which  the 
very  pauses  in  his  thinking,  the  very  checks  to  the  train 
of  his  ideas,  find  their  place.  It  behooves  us,  then,  to 
study  his  methods. 

We  shall  begin  with  the  estimate  taken  of  his  intellect- 
ual workings  by  no  less  an  admirer  than  Mr.  A.  C.  Swin- 
burne, as  one  leading  us  to  a  better  knowledge  of  his 
mode  of  thinking  and  composing:  "  If  there  is  any  great 
quality,"  says  this  master  of  English  rhythm,  "more  per- 


88  Books  anWMeadirig. 


ceptible  than  another  in  Mr.  Browning's  intellect,  it  is  his 
decisive  and  incisive  faculty  of  thought,  his  sureness  and 
intensity  of  perception,  his  rapid  and  trenchant  resolution 
of  aim.  ...  He  never  thinks  but  at  full  speed;  and  the 
rate  of  his  thought  is  to  that  of  another  man's  as  the 
speed  of  a  railway  to  that  of  a  wagon,  or  the  speed  of  a 
telegraph  to  that  of  a  railway.  It  is  hopeless  to  enjoy  the 
charm  or  apprehend  the  gist  of  his  writings  except  with  a 
mind  thoroughly  alert,  an  attention  awake  at  all  points,  a 
spirit  open  and  ready  to  be  kindled  by  the  contact  of  the 
writer's.  To  do  justice  to  any  book  which  deserves  any 
other  sort  of  justice  than  that  of  the  fire  or  the  waste- 
paper  basket,  it  is  necessary  to  read  it  in  a  fit  frame  of 
mind;  and  the  proper  mood  in  which  to  study  for  the 
first  time  a  book  of  Mr.  Browning's  is  the  freshest,  clear- 
est, most  active  mood  of  the  mind  in  its  brightest  and 
keenest  hours  of  work."  *  The  aptness  of  these  remarks 
is  soon  made  apparent. 

The  mental  alertness  here  recommended  by  Mr.  Swin- 
burne is  called  for  from  the  manner  in  which  Browning 
constructs  his  poems.  The  narration  is  not  consecutive. 
The  various  parts  have  an  appearance  of  being  thrown 
together  without  design.  Mr.  Hutton  has  characterized 
this  state  as  "  mere  abruptness  and  hurry,  the  rapid, 
sketchy  accumulation  of  a  writer  of  notes  from  his  men- 
ial note-book,  tumbling  one  after  another  in  a  bewilder- 
ing crowd."  t     That  is  the  first  impression  after  a  first 

*  Gtoige  Chapman:  A  Critical  Essay.    1875.     t  Essays,  ii.,  p.  173. 


Browning.  89 

glance.  You  perceive  the  fitness  of  the  various  parts 
only  after  you  have  surveyed  the  whole  poem.  For  in- 
stance, you  must  get  well  into  the  third  book  of  Sordello 
before  you  can  grasp  the  meaning  of  the  first  book. 
Again,  through  all  he  says  there  run  two,  sometimes 
three,  currents  of  thought,  and  the  poet  sets  one  up 
against  the  other.  He  is  not  only  asserting  his  own 
position,  he  is  also  anticipating  the  remarks  and  objec- 
tions of  his  imaginary  listener.  Sometimes  the  remarks 
are  repeated;  more  frequently  is  the  reader  left  to  infer 
them  from  the  sudden  digression  of  the  poet.  But  it  is 
this  process  of  double  thinking  that  gives  the  clue  to 
Browning's  meaning.  And  it  is  the  effort  to  follow  the 
various  clashing  trains  of  thought  that  renders  the 
reading  of  his  magnificent  monologues  such  a  strain. 
We  will  not  call  it  obscurity.  It  is  a  new  method  of 
presenting  thought,  and  Browning  chooses  to  reveal 
character  through  its  intellectual  processes. 

A  source  of  great  disappointment  in  reading  Brown- 
ing arises  from  the  fact  that  we  seek  in  his  writings 
something  else  besides  what  Browning  intends  to  put 
into  them.  We  bring  to  the  reading  of  him  precon- 
ceived notions  culled  from  our  acquaintance  with  Shak- 
spere,  or  Milton,  or  some  other  great  poet.  But  Brown- 
ing is  not  repeating  what  the  great  authors  have  so 
grandly  said.  He  has  his  own  methods;  he  takes  his 
own  views  of  life;  he  utilizes  his  own  experiences  of  na- 
ture, and  he  gives  them  all  forth  after  his  own  peculiar 


go  •  Books  and  Reading. 

fashion.  He  has  nought  to  do  with  the  beaten  tracks. 
He  is  not  repeating.  What  others  have  well  expressed 
he  leaves  alone.  He  has  his  own  message  to  deliver  to 
his  age. 

And  we  may  set  it  down  that  that  message — the  un- 
dercurrent of  all  that  he  sings— is  one  of  cheerfulness, 
steady  hopefulness,  and  consistent  soundness  of  mind. 
He  is  a  believer  in  perfection,  and  in  perfection  beyond 
the  grave.  He  loves  beauty  and  truth,  and  all  art  as 
the  expression  of  beauty  and  truth.  He  is  a  wonderful 
searcher  of  hearts  and  interpreter  of  motives,  and  in 
scathing,  unmincing  language  he  reveals  the  hidden  folds 
of  souls.  Read  that  sublime  poem  called  Easter  Day. 
Note  the  force  and  beauty  and  graphic  distinctness  with 
which  the  poet  shows  how  the  soul  realizes  the  vanity  of 
existence  without  the  possession  of  the  Highest  Good 
and  Supreme  Love.  Not  the  good  things  of  this  earth- 
ly life — not  artistic  work — not  scientific  pursuits — not 
mere  earthly  love — can  satiate  the  soul;  these  are  only 
shadows  of  the  reality  belonging  to  the  Beatific  Vision. 

But  it  is  not  easy  to  disentangle  what  is  of  Brown- 
ing's own  conviction  from  what  is  in  keeping  with  the 
character  into  whose  mouth  he  puts  the  words.  Thus, 
Mrs.  Orr  tells  us  that  the  character  of  Don  Juan  in  Fifine 
at  the  Fair  is  a  standing  puzzle  to  Browning's  readers, 
"because  that  which  he  condemns  in  it,  and  that  which 
he   does  not,  are  not  to  be    distinguished."  *     It   will 

*  Handbook  to  Brcnvning,  fifth  edition,  p.  150. 


Broivfting.  91 


help  us  in  this  instance  to  make  the  puzzle  less  intri- 
cate, if  we  bear  in  mind  that  Don  Juan  is  an  artist  be- 
yond the  necessity  of  working  for  his  art,  with  all  the  in- 
stincts of  the  Bohemian,  loose  in  thought  as  he  is  loose 
in  morals,  yet  just  such  a  character  as  would  be  most 
likely  to  mingle  with  low  and  vile  theories  of  life  some  of 
the  sublimest  ideas  concerning  the  art  of  which  he  is  pas- 
sionately fond.  In  nearly  all  Browning's  wonderful  mon- 
ologues is  to  be  found  this  commingling  of  the  high  and 
the  low,  the  true  and  the  false,  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
takes  thought  and  study  to  separate  them.  Amid  patent 
sophistry,  and  an  apparent  trifling  with  his  subject,  there 
jets  forth  a  flame  of  scorching  truth  that  burns  itself  into 
the  brain.  Take  Bishop  Blougrams  Apology.  Bishop  Blou- 
gram,  as  we  know,  represents  Cardinal  Wiseman,  and  Mrs. 
Orr  tells  us  that  "  Cardinal  Wiseman  himself  reviewed 
the  poem,  not  disapprovingly,  in  a  Catholic  publication 
of  the  time."  *  You  must  not  for  a  moment  imagine  that 
the  explanation  here  given  of  the  Bishop's  faith  and  of  his 
ecclesiastical  position  is  the  one  approving  itself  to  Car- 
dinal Wiseman^s  own  conviction.  It  is  an  explanation 
not  to  be  taken  seriously  even  in  the  poet's  intentions. 
It  is  simply  a  meeting  with  flippancy  and  shallow  pretence 
on  their  own  ground. 

**  For  Blougram,  he  believed,  say,  half  he  spoke, 

The  other  poriion,  as  he  shaped  it  thus 

For  argumentatory  purposes, 

He  felt  his  foe  was  foolish  to  dispute. 
*  Broivnifig  Hafidbook^Tp.  172. 

The  Cardinal,  however,  resented  the  liberty  taken  with  him  as  an 
impertinence.     See  The  Rambh'r,]^^.,  1856. 


92  Books  and  Reading. 

Some  arbitrary  accidental  thoughts 

That  crossed  his  mindy  amusing  because  new. 

He  chose  to  represent  as  fixtures  there  y  * 

And  yet,  in  the  midst  of  this  trifling  with  his  subject, 
you  come  across  some  wholesome  truths  clearly  ex- 
pressed. In  reply,  for  instance,  to  the  request  to  purify 
his  faith  and  purge  it  of  all  so-called  modern  "  excres- 
cences,''  such  as  belief  in  the  liquefaction  of  the  blood  of 
St.  Januarius  in  Naples,  the  Bishop  says: 

**  Clearing  off  one  excrescence  to  see  two, 
There's  ever  a  next  in  size,  now  grown  as  big, 
That  meets  the  knife:    I  cut  and  cut  again ! 
First  cut  the  Liquefaction,  what  comes  last 
But  Fichte's  clever  cut  at  God  himself? 
Experimentalize  on  sacred  things  ! 
I  trust  nor  hand  nor  eye  nor  heart  nor  brain 
To  stop  betimes  :  they  all  get  drunk  alike ^  t 

Destroy  belief  in  miracles — in  the  power  of  God — and 
you  destroy  belief  in  God  Himself.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  the  poet  here  alludes  to  an  expression  attributed  to 
Fichte:  "  Gentlemen,  in  to-morrow's  lecture  we  will 
create  God." 

Again,  take  Tht  Statue  and  the  Bust.  The  poet  here 
seems  to  prefer  activity  to  inaction,  even  when  the  end 
in  sight  is  a  bad  one: 

"  Let  a  man  contend  to  the  uttermost 
For  his  life's  set  prize,  be  it  what  it  will." 

•  Bishop  Blougram^s  Apology,  p.  114. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  108. 


Browning.  93 


But  suddenly,  in  the  last  stanza,  he  turns  the  tables 
upon  the  complacently  virtuous,  with  "the  unlit  lamp 
and  the  ungirt  loin,^*  who  are  content  to  avoid  evil  with- 
out making  great  effort  to  do  good: 

**  You  of  virtue  (we  issue  join), 
How  strive  you  ?    De  tefabula. " 

And  thus  does  he  turn  an  essentially  immoral  act  into 
a  moral  sermon. 

Another  feature  of  Browning  adding  to  our  difficulty 
in  understanding  him,  is  that  his  themes  are  many  of 
them  foreign,  and  deal  with  obscure  points  of  history. 
The  humanity  underlying  these  themes, — the  love  and  the 
hate,  the  anger  and  the  jealousy,  the  ambition  and  the  cun- 
ning, — is  indeed  of  the  stamp  that  makes  the  whole  world 
kin.  He  takes  it  for  granted  that  his  readers  have  trav- 
elled; that  they  are  equally  at  home  in  Florence  and 
Venice,  in  Paris  and  Geneva  and  Rome;  that  the  pict- 
ure-galleries of  Europe  are  so  many  books  in  which 
they  are  well-read;  that  they  are  acquainted  with  the 
sayings  and  doings  of  prominent  contemporaries;  that 
they  possess  an  intimate  knowledge  of  history,  and 
that  they  are  familiar  with  the  technique  of  music. 
Therefore  does  he  claim  a  large  share  of  culture  in  its 
broadest  sense  as  a  preliminary  to  the  right  understand- 
ing of  his  most  characteristic  poems.  We  are  told  that 
he  wrote  \)ci^Pied  Piper  0/  Hamelin  for  Macready's  young 
son  William;  we  regret  that  he  has  not  done  more  such 
work  with  children  in  his  mind's  eye. 


94  Books  and  Reading. 


Bat  as  Browning  is  a  teacher  and  an  interpreter  of  life 
rather  than  an  idle  singer  of  an  empty  day,  it  behooves  us 
to  know  definitely  the  lessons  he  would  inculcate.  To 
begin  with,  life  is  for  him  a  stern  reality,  a  matter  of 
will,  and  pain,  and  suffering, — the  good  of  it  and  the  ill 
of  it  both  essential  to  enable  the  soul  to  reach  the  goal 
of  perfection.  And  so  the  poet  exhorts  us  to  welcome 
the  pain,  to  persist  in  the  strife: 

"  Then,  welcome  each  rebuff 

That  turns  earth's  smoothness  rough, 

Each  sting  that  bids  nor  sit  nor  stand,  but  go  ! 


Be  our  joys  three-parts  po 


m  ! 


Strive,  and  hold  cheap  the  strain; 
Learn,  nor  account  the  pang;  dare,  never  grudge  the  unoe."* 

He  is  an  optimist.  He  finds  a  place  for  every  sin,  a 
solace  for  every  misery.  Gazing  on  the  wretched  sui- 
cides in  the  Morgue  at  Paris,  he  says: 

*'  T  thought,  and  ihinlc,  their  sins  atoned."' 

And  in  the  concluding  stanza  of  the  same  poem  the 
poet  thus  expresses  the  hope  that  what  is  seemingly 
beyond  repair  shall  be  finally  mended; 

*'  It's  wiser  being  good  than  bad; 

It's  safer  being  meek  than  fierce  : 
It's  fitter  being  sane  than  mad. 

My  own  hope  is,  a  sun  will  ])ierce 
The  thickest  cloud  earth  ever  stretched  ; 

That  after  Last  returns  the  First, 

*  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra. 


Browning.  95 


Though  a  wide  compass  round  be  fetched  ; 
That  what  began  best,  can't  end  worst, 
Nor  what  God  blessed  once,  prove  accurst.* 

Far  from  being  properly  fixed,  the  value  of  restraint 
and  self-discipline  is  almost  ignored  in  Browning's  theory 
of  life.  His  ideal  of  living  is  will-power  carried  into 
action.  True,  he  would  make  of  the  evil  in  one's  life 
an  experience  out  of  which  one  might  rise  to  good.  And 
so  may  one  wnthin  clearly  defined  limits.  But  to  go 
farther,  as  the  poet  seems  to  do,  and  make  wrong-doing 
the  essential  out  of  which  right-doing  may  come,  were 
as  false  in  art  as  it  is  false  in  morality.  Under  no  cir- 
cumstances is  the  doing  of  evil  to  be  urged  that  good 
may  follow.  Perfection,  with  Browning,  is  not  the  soul's 
spiritual  growth  in  holiness  and  conformity  to  the  will 
of  God.  It  is  rather  a  taking  hold  of  the  goods  and  the 
ills  of  life  indifferently  as  they  present  themselves,  and 
utilizing  them  to  the  best  advantage.  Without  evil 
there  would  be  no  growth  of  character;  therefore  does 
he  call  evil  blessed. f  Life,  ideal  life,  he  defines  clearly 
enough  to  mean 

** learning  to  abhor 

'Ihe  false  and  love  the  true,  truth  treasured  snatch  by  snatch."  % 

But  what  is  the  false,  what  the  true?  False  and  true, 
instead  of  being  contradictory,  are  in  his  philo.sophy 
supplementary  one  to  the  other.       Hence  in    another 

*  Apparent  Faihtrf.  t  Bishop  Blongravi's  Apology, 

\  Fifine,  p.  421, 


9^  Books  and  Reading. 


place   he   represents  the  dying  soul  as  beholding  evil 
merged   in  good: 

"Over  ihe  ball  of  it. 

Peering  and  prying, 
How  I  see  all  of  it, 

Life  there,  outlying! 
Roughness  and  smoothness. 

Shine  and  defilement, 
Grace  and  uncouthness  ; 

One  reconcilement. 

*  #  *  if  # 

'•  All's  lend-and-borrow ; 

Good,  see,  wants  evil, 
Joy  demands  sorrow, 

Angel  weds  devil !  "  * 

The  doctrine  of  Browning  regarding  pain  is  not  to  be 
identified  with  the  pessimism  or  agnosticism  that  would 
sacrifice  human  nature  to  the  general  good  without 
hope  of  personal  advantage  or  belief  in  a  personal  God. 
Browning  believes  in  a  personal  and  a  loving  God.  He 
can  conceive  no  other: 

"  In  youth  I  looked  to  these  very  skies, 
And  probing  their  immensities, 
I  found  God  there,  His  visible  power; 
Yet  felt  in  ray  heart,  amid  all  its  sense 
Of  the  power,  an  equal  evidence 
That  His  love,  there  too,  was  the  nobler  dower. 
For  the  loving  worm  within  its  clod 
Were  diviner  than  a  loveless  god 
Amid  his  worlds."  t 
*  Pisgah'SightSt  I-  t  Christmas  Eve, 


Broivning.  97 


Browning  had  no  patience  with  the  agnosticism  of 
the  day.  To  the  last,  he  retained  his  belief  in  certain 
saving  truths  of  Christianity  and  in  a  Divine  revelation. 
The  Divintity  of  Christ  is  the  great  solution  to  all  man's 
world-problems  : 

"  I  say,  the  acknowledgment  of  God  in  Christ 
Accepted  by  thy  reason,  solves  for  thee 
All  questions  in  the  earth  and  07tt  of  it. 
And  has  so  far  advanced  thee  to  be  wise. 
Wouldst  thou  unprove  this  to  re-prove  the  proved  ? — 
In  life's  mere  minute,  with  power  to  use  that  proof,   . 
Leave  knowledge  and  revert  to  how  it  sprung? 
Thou  hast  it ;  use  it  and  forthwith^  or  die  /  "  ** 

That  is,  he  would  have  men  employ  the  short  span  of 
their  lives,  "  life's  mere  minute,"  in  living  out  the  sav- 
ing truths  of  Christianity  rather  than  speculating  upon 
them.  And  again,  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies^  a  poem  of  his 
old  age,  written  in  1883,  he  represents  the  imaginary 
Persian  sage  as  counselling  the  disciple  who  in  his  blind 
zeal  had  cursed,  kicked,  and  cuffed  one  who  said: — 

*'  God  once  on  earth  assumed  a  human  shape," 
rather  with  all  humility  to  hold  in  awe  the  great  truth  he 
does  not  understand — 

"  Fitlier  thou  saidst,  ^  I  stand  appalled  before 
Conception  unattainable  by  me. 
Who  need  it  most:  "  t 

*  A  Death  in  the  Desert. 

t  Ferishtah's  Fancies,  v.  The  Sun, 


98  Books  and  Reading. 


Is  there  not  here  a  covert  rebuke  to  those  of  the  pres- 
ent day  who  scorn  the  saving  doctrine  ? — 

But  the  Christianity  which  Browning  championed  was 
too  broad  in  its  scope  and  too  indefinite  in  its  dogma  to 
satisfy  a  sincere  Christian  soul: 

•'  One  trims  the  bark  'twixt  shoal  and  shelf, 

And  sees,  each  side,  the  good  effects  of  it, 

A  value  for  religion's  self, 

A  carelessness  about  the  sects  of  it. 

Let  me  enjoy  my  conviction, 

Nor  watch  my  neighbor's  faith  with  fretfulness, 

Still  spying  there  some  dereliction 

Of  truth,  perversity,  torgetfulness.  '  * 

This  is  a  vague  creed.  It  is  the  creed  of  indifferent- 
ism.  It  is  not  the  steady,  unwavering  belief  in  definite 
dogmas  revealed  by  God,  and  exactly  defined  by  Him 
in  the  teachings  of  His  visible  Church.  And  so,  whilst 
Browning  in  his  own  way  holds  by  some  truths  of  Chris- 
tian revelation,  he  cannot  in  any  sense  or  under  any  cir- 
cumstances be  set  up  as  an  expounder  of  Christian 
doctrine.  At  least,  we  Catholics  prefer  receiving  the 
teachings  of  Christianity  from  our  Little  Catechism, 
from  the  decrees  of  the  Councils,  and  the  decisions  of 
the  Popes.  Therein  may  we  find  the  fulness  of  God's 
revelation  to  men  so  far  as  is  needful  for  men's  souls. 
Therein  might  Browning  have  received  light  regarding 

*  Christmas  Eve, 


Browning.  99 


many  a  problem  upon  which  he  has  left  enigmatic  utter- 
ances. * 

And  yet  Browning  seemed  to  take  an  especial 
pleasure  in  dealing  with  Catholic  ecclesiastical  subjects: 
now  it  is  monks,  now  it  is  bishops,  now  it  is  legates^ 
now  it  is  popes.  But  his  treatment  of  these  subjects 
is  in  the  main  void  of  sympathy.  For  a  man  so 
bold,  so  outspoken,  and  so  apparently  above  human 
respect,  it  is  astonishing  to  notice  the  persistence  with 
which  he  ignores  what  is  good,  and  what  makes  for 
good,  in  our  Catholic  faith,  and  misrepresents  our  ritual 
and  ceremonies,  our  history,  our  popes  and  cardinals, 
our  bishops  and  priests  and  monks.  In  Christmas  Eve 
he  describes  the  solemn  hush,  the  awe  and  reverence  ac- 
companying the  consecration  of  the  host  like  one  of  the 
initiated.  Elsewhere  in  the  same  poem  he  takes  care  to 
tell  us  what  he  thinks  of  it  all.  Cunning  and  worldli- 
ness  and  deep-laid  selfishness  are  to  his  mind  the  lead- 
ing traits  of  our  churchmen.  Mediaeval  Catholicity  in 
the  poems  of  Browning  is  far  from  being  the  garden  of 
virtue  Kenelm  Digby  has  so  glowingly  described.  The 
sanctifying  influence  of  the  sacraments  is  beyond  his 
power  of  realizing.  This  is  all  the  more  astonishing 
when  we  remember  that  Browning  spent  the  best  and 
happiest  portion  of  his  life  in  Catholic  Italy.     "  Italy," 

*  See  in  The  Month  for  February,  1890,  a  valuable  article  from  tl:e 
pen  of  the  Reverend  John  Rickaby,  S.  J.,  on  Browning  as  a  religious 
teacher. 


100  Books  and  Reading. 

said  he,  "was  my  university/'  Except  Pompilia  in 
The  Ring  and  the  Book,  of  all  his  elaborately  drawn  charac- 
ters he  has  scarcely  left  one  in  which  the  spirit  of  Catholi- 
city has  had  a  wholesome  influence.  He  never  learned  to 
appreciate  the  earnestness  and  sincerity  of  this  people's 
faith;  except  in  the  case  mentioned,  and  perhaps  in  the 
beautiful  character  of  Pippa,  he  has  given  but  little  evi- 
dence that  he  realized  how  to  every  Catholic  his  faith  is 
as  much  a  living  presence  as  the  material  world.  He 
simply  presents  those  types  of  Catholics  that  constitute 
the  stock-in-trade  of  Protestant  fiction.  That  a  man  of 
his  intelligence  and  natural  inquisitiveness  could  have 
lived  his  days  without  ever  noticing  the  flowers  of 
Catholic  piety  that  must  have  bloomed  in  every  village 
in  Italy,  is  another  instance  of  the  power  of  prejudice  to 
blindfold  the  acutest,  so  that,  having  eyes  they  see  not. 
Cardinal  Newman  told  us  long  ago,  as  a  deliberate 
opinion  learned  from  his  own  experience,  "  that  no  con- 
ceivable absurdities  can  surpass  the  absurdities  which 
are  firmly  believed  of  Catholics  by  sensible,  kind-hearted, 
well-intentioned  Protestants."  * 

There  are  noble  exceptions  to  this  imperviousness. 
Francesca,  who  has  given  us  the  pathetic  Slory  of  Ida^ 
lived  in  the  same  town  and  breathed  the  same  atmos- 
phere with  Browning.  Her  womanly,  sympathetic  soul 
learned  to  appreciate  the  inner  Catholic  spirit  that  she 
perceived.     She  found  the  beautiful  wayside  flowers  of 

*  Present  Posit  ion  of  Catholics  in  England^  p.  41. 


Browning.  loi 


peasant  poetry  in  Catholic  Tuscany,  so  instinct  with 
fervid  Catholic  devotion,  possessed  of  a  fascination  that 
she  could  not  resist,  and  she  gathered  a  charming  bou- 
quet, fresh  with  the  morning  dews  of  piety,  and  large- 
hearted,  noble-thinking  John  Ruskin  tied  them  together 
with  a  beautiful  ribbon  of  praise  and  commendation, 
and  we  inhale  their  fragrance  and  find  it  refreshing. 
And  passing  from  the  pages  of  this  simple  poesy,  which 
reveals  to  us  genuine  Catholic  Italian  life,  and  which  is 
so  redolent  of  earth  and  sky,  back  to  Browning's  inter- 
pretations of  Italian  sentiment— -to  his  records  of  crime 
and  sinister  motive  and  rampant  passion  —  is  like 
shutting  out  the  light  and  air  of  heaven,  and  working 
amid  the  sickening  odors  of  the  dissecting  room.  The 
Puritanism  of  Browning's  nature  entered  into  his  art  and 
made  it  as  cold  and  crotchety  and  narrow  in  sentiment  as 
the  religion  of  Puritanism  itself.  His  subjects  are  largely 
drawn  from  the  Italian  chronicles  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  I  fear  that  Browning's  friend  Stendhal  did  him 
but  a  doubtful  service  in  putting  within  his  reach,  and 
directing  his  attention  to,these  revolting  tales  of  crime. 
No  doubt  the  poet's  aptitudes  for  interpreting  certain 
phases  of  life  were  better  than  for  picturing  certain 
other  phases.  He  had  to  consult  his  limitations.  We 
dare  say  Browning  could  interpret  the  soul-workings  of 
a  Fra  Lippo  Lippi  far  better  than  those  of  a  Fra  Angeli- 
co,  or  the  grovellings  of  a  sensual  and  jealous  Spanish 
friar  more  accurately  than  the  aspirations  of  a  Philip 


102  Books  and  Reading, 

Neri;  or  he  could  concentrate  the  bad  side  of  the  Re- 
naissance spirit — "  its  worldliness,  inconsistency,  pride, 
hypocrisy,  ignorance  of  itself,  love  of  art,  of  luxury,  and 
of  good  Latin,"  to  borrow  Ruskin's  words  * — in  his  poem 
'Hie  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb^  more  powerfully  than  he  could 
the  good  spirit  of  that  period  as  illustrated  in  the  words 
and  acts  of  a  Carlo  Borromeo.  But  while  we  accept  his 
work  at  its  full  value,  it  is  proper  that  we  enter  protest 
against  his  interpretations  being  taken  as  the  correct 
measure  of  Catholic  life  and  Catholic  faith.  It  is  proper 
that,  while  we  may  admire  his  soul-studies — whether  he 
depicts  the  disintegration  of  a  sordid  soul  made  dizzy 
by  success,  as  in  A  SouVs  Tragedy^  or  whether  he  shows 
the  budding  forth  of  a  soul  into  life  and  light,  raised  up 
beyond  the  ambitions  of  place  and  power  at  the  first 
touch  of  true  love,  as  in  Colo?nhes  Birthday — we  should 
refuse  to  accept  his  spiritual  and  religious  teaching, 
wherever  they  in  the  least  diverge  from  what  we  as 
Catholics  believe  to  be  true  in  faith  and  morals. 

But  in  spite  of  all  Browning's  shortcomings— and  his 
shortcomings  are  numerous  as  regards  both  matter  and 
form — he  is  still  a  great  poet,  the  full  measure  of  whose 
greatness  the  present  age  has  not  yet  taken.  He  is  truly 
many-sided  in  his  themes.  He  can  be  tender,  and  deli- 
cate, and  pathetic.  He  can  be  humorous  and  tragical; 
he  can  be  lyrical  with  a  melody  deep  and  subtle  and  con- 
trolling measures  from  the  simple  to  the  intricate;  he 

*  Modetn  Painters,  voL  iv.,  p.  379. 


Browning.  103 


can  tell  a  story  with  a  life  and  energy  that  specially  fit 
into  his  verse — witness  The  Good  News  from  Gheni,  and 
Herve  Riel; — he  can  build  up  a  philosophical  thought  in 
his  rugged  verse.  He  is  the  poet  of  intense  passion  in  its 
varied  moods,  from  fierce  hate  to  love  in  all  its  kinds 
and  in  all  its  degrees.  In  that  lyric  tragedy,  suggested  by 
a  picture  of  Maclise's,  In  a  Gondola^  the  dying  victim  is  so 
absorbed  in  his  guilty  love  that  even  the  pain  of  his  death- 
wound  is  numbed.  In  Evelyn  Hope^  one  of  Browning's 
most  tender  and  pathetic  lyrics,  all  time  is  annihilated  in 
the  heart  of  the  lover  as  he  sits  by  his  child-love,  whom  -- 

*' God's  Hand  beckoned  unawares, — 
And  the  sweet  white  brow  is  all  of  her ;  " 

and  in  the  intensity  of  his  feelings  he  claims  her  as  his  in 
the  future — 

"You  will  wake,  and  remember,  and  understand.' 

In  The  Laboratory^  note  the  joy  with  which  the  jealous 
woman  in  her  frenzy  gloats  over  the  poison  that  is  being 
prepared  for  her  rival.  You  can  hear  the  hiss  of  hate  in 
her  voice  and  feel  its  scorching  in  her  breath.  Was 
ever  passion  so  concentrated  into  words  ?  Every  ex- 
pression in  these  poems  is  a  passionate  spark;  every  line 
is  a  flame. 

Browning  is  unique  as  a  master  of  the  monologue. 
Take,  for  instance,  one  of  the  most  perfect  poems  he 
has  written,  Karshish^  the  Arab  Physician.  Karshish, 
"the  picker-up  of  learning's  crumbs,"  writes  to  a  brother 


104  Books  and  Reading. 

physician,  "Abib,  all-sagacious  in  our  art,"  an  account  of 
his  meeting  with  Lazarus,  who  had  been  raised  from  the 
dead.  He  pretends  to  treat  the  miracle  in  an  off-hand 
manner,  as  something  every  physician  can  explain — 

'*  'Tis  but  a  case  of  mania—  sub-induced 

By  epilepsy,  at  the  turning-point 

Of  trance  prolonged  unduly  some  three  days." 

Even  in  such  glib  words  would  our  own  un-Christian 
medical  experts  decide  upon  the  nature  and  cause  of  an 
approved  miracle  at  Lourdes.  Indeed,  Karshish  simply 
mentions  the  event  to  fill  up  his  letter,  and  as  part  of 
other  seemingly  far  more  important  news.  But  in  order 
to  make  his  report  of  the  case  complete — 

"  (in  writing  to  a  leech 


'Tis  well  to  keep  back  nothing  of  a  case)  "- 


he  tells  how  Lazarus  regards  Jesus  as  none  other  than 

God  Himself: 

"  This  man  so  cured  regards  the  curer,  then, 
As — God  forgive  me  !    who  but  God  Himself, 
Creator  and  sustainer  of  the  world, 
That  came  and  dwelt  in  flesh  on  it  awhile!  " — 

And  then,  after  repeating  other  sayings  of  Lazarus,  he 
grows  impatient  and  assumes  indifference  to  him  and  his 
sayings  as  those  of  a  madman! 

*'  But  why  all  this  of  what  he  saith  ? 

Why  write  of  trivial  matters,  things  of  price 
Calling  at  every  moment  for  remark  ?  " 
And  at  once  he  turns  to  acquaint  him  of  a  species  of 
plant  that  he  noticed: — 


Browning.  105 


**  I  noticed  on  the  margin  of  a  pool 
Blue-flowering  borage,  the  Aleppo  sort, 
Aboundeih,  very  nitrous.     It  is  strange  .f^^ 

The  last  words  show  that,  his  seeming  indifference 
notwithstanding,  the  story  of  Lazarus  still  haunts  him, 
and  after  another  apology  for  its  prolixity — 

**Once  more  thy  pardon  and  farewell," 

the  whole  force  and  truth  and  sublimity  of  the  Incarna- 
tion flashes  forth  in  a  postscript: 

*'  The  very  God  !  think,  Abib ;  dost  thou  think  ? 

So,  the  All-Great,  were  the  All-Loving  too 

So,  through  the  thunder  comes  a  human  voice 
Saying,  '  O  heart  I  made,  a  heart  beats  here  ! 
Face,  my  hands  fashioned,  see  it  in  myself ! 
Thou  hast  no  power  nor  may'st  conceive  of  mine, 
But  love  I  gave  thee,  with  myself  to  love, 
And  thou  must  love  me  who  have  died  for  thee! ' 
The  madman  saith  He  said  so:  it  is  strange." 

The  power  of  imagination  that  created  that  poem, 
with  all  its  depth  and  subtlety  of  thought,  is  of  a  su- 
perior order.  And  a  greater  feat  still — the  master-piece 
of  Browning's  life — is  the  Ring  and  the  Book.  The  poet 
comes  across  the  verbal  process  of  a  domestic  tragedy 
that  happened  several  hundred  years  ago.  An  Italian 
nobleman  murders  his  young  wife  and  her  parents  under 
peculiar  circumstances,  and  suffers  the  death-penalty. 
The  poet  breathes  a  spirit  into  the  document  and  re- 
suscitates the  life  of  the  period.  He  gives  the  very  throb- 
bings  of  the  popular  pulse  under  the  consternation  caused 


io6  Books  and  Reading. 

by  the  red-handed  act.  You  have  two  versions  of  the 
ordinary  people  and  their  comments  upon  the  motives 
that  led  to  it,  upon  the  morning  after  it  had  been  perpe- 
trated— one  favoring  the  husband  and  one  the  wife;  you 
have  a  third  version  showing 

"  What  the  superior  social  section  thinks. 
In  person  of  some  men  of  quality;  " 

you  have  the  special  pleadings  pro  and  con  in  the  courts; 
you  have  the  cool  and  cynical  version  of  the  murderer, 
confident  in  the  prestige  of  his  noble  name — biting,  sar- 
castic, thoroughly  wicked;  you  have  the  pathetic  story 
of  Pompilia  before  her  death,  the  child-wife  and  mother 
— parting  with  her  two- weeks  old  babe  — so  tender  and 
pure — so  docile  in  her  obedience  to  parenis  and  husband 
— so  strong  to  resist  temptation — so  resigned  to  God's 
will  in  her  sufferings  and  her  tragic  death;— altogether, 
you  have  ten  different  versions  of  the  same  event  accord- 
ing to  the  various  points  of  view  and  the  degrees  of  in- 
terest different  persons  or  classes  of  persons  take  in  it — 

**  Learn  one  lesson  hence, 

Of  many  which  whatever  lives  should  teach, 
The  lesson  that  our  human  speech  is  nought 
Our  human  testimony  false,  our  fame 
And  human  estimation  words  and  wind." 

It  is  a  lesson  that  Browning  has  been  inculcating  from 
Sordello  to  Fifine ;  namely,  that  words  frequently  fall 
short  of  the  full  expression  of  truth,  and  that  the  fullest 
expression  is  to  be  found  in  the  representation  of  art: 


Broivning.  107 


"  It  is  the  glory  and  good  of  Art, 

That  Art  remains  the  one  way  possible 

Of  speaking  truth,  to  njouths  like  mine,  at  least.  .  .  . 

But  Art, — wherein  man  nowise  speaks  to  men, 

Only  to  mankind,  —Art  may  tell  a  truth 

Obliquely,  do  the  thing  shall  breed  the  thought, 

Nor  wrong  the  thought  missing  the  mediate  word. 

So  may  you  paint  your  picture,  twice  show  truth 

Beyond  mere  imagery  on  the  wall, — 

So  note  by  note  bring  music  from  your  mind 

Deeper  than  ever  the  Andante  dived, 

So  write  a  book  shall  mean  beyond  the  facts 
Suffice  the  eye  and  save  the  soul  beside."  • 

Such  is  the  kind  of  book  Browning  has  been  striving 
to  give  us  all  along — 

"  A  book  shall  mean  beyond  the  facts 

Suffice  the  eye  and  save  the  soul  beside," 

and  it  is  for  us  to  get  at  the  meaning  beyond  the  facts 
and  learn  the  greater  truth.  Furthermore,  it  is  because 
of  this  deeper  meaning,  and  of  the  poet's  many-sided 
manner  of  regarding  truth,  that  he  seems  so  lavish  of 
phrase  and  clause,  each  throwing  light  on  different  as- 
pects of  the  proposition  he  would  state,  and  employs  in- 
volved sentences  with  parenthetical  side-glances  and 
elaborate  digressions.  The  reading  of  such  sentences  is 
wearisome  work,  but  when  the  sentences  are  grasped 
in  all  their  bearings  you  find  that  no  line,  or  clause, 
or  phrase  can  be  spared.     Having  done  his  utmost — 


The  Ring  and  the  Book,  book,  xii.,  838-63. 


lo8  Books  and  Reading, 


and  he  tells  us  that  he  did  his  utmost — in  the  art  to 
which  his  life  was  a  devotion,  he  may  well  say:  "  Nor 
do  I  apprehend  any  more  charges  of  being  wilfully  ob- 
scure, unconscientiously  careless,  or  perversely  harsh. "  * 
In  the  long  list  of  his  writings,  from  Pauline  with  its 
immaturities  to  Asolando,  in  which  the  poet  for  the  last 
time  runs  his  fingers  along  the  various  chords  of  his 
lyre,  and  strikes  clearly  and  accurately  the  diverse  notes 
at  his  command,  there  is  much — however  unwilf ully  so — 
that  is  obscure  and  unsatisfactory  to  the  ordinary  reader; 
nay,  with  his  friend,  biographer,  and  admirer  we  may 
add,  that  "  of  all  his  faults,  the  worst  is  that  jugglery, 
that  inferior  legerdemain,  with  the  elements  of  the 
beautiful  in  verse;"  f  but  after  making  due  allowance 
for  his  shortcomings,  we  can  still  find  much  in  his  poetry 
that  is  intensely  earnest  and  suggestive,  much  that  is 
new,  fresh,  broadening,  and  formative.  |  Browning  is 
one  of  the  great  forces  in  English  literature. 

Turn  we  now  to  an  opposite  pole  from  Browning  in 
method  of  thinking  and  in  form  of  expression. 

*  Selections  from  Browning.    Dedicatory  Letters  to  Tennyson,  1872. 

+  William  Sharp,  Life  of  Browning,  p.  205. 

X  Cardinal  Wiseman  thus  concludes  his  review  of  Browning's  Men 
and  Women:  "For  ourselves,  we  thank  Mr.  Browning,  sceptical 
and  reckless  as  he  is,  for  a  rare  treat  in  these  thoughtful  and  able  vol- 
umes  Though  much  of  their  matter  is  extremely  offensive  to  Catho- 

lies,  yet  beneath  the  surface  there  is  an  undercurrent  of  thought  that 
is  by  no  means  inconsistent  with  our  religion.  "  The  Rambler, ^  Jan., 
1856,  p.  71. 


Tennyson.  109 


XL 

I  SHALL  not  dilate  at  length  upon  Tennyson.  He  has 
no  peer  among  the  world-singers  of  the  day.  He  is  de- 
servedly popular.  He  has  made  his  art  the  earnest 
study  of  a  long  life.  From  the  feeble  poetic  touch  of 
Oriana  (1830)  to  the  firm  artistic  grasp  of  Rizpah  (1880) 
the  distance  in  degree  of  merit  far  outnumbers  the  dis- 
tance in  years.  But  the  delicacy  and  strength  and  finish 
in  Tennyson's  later  work  came  to  him  after  intense 
labor  carried  on  without  intermission  for  nigh  half  a 
century.  It  is  not  spontaneous.  No  poet  has  been 
more  reserved  about  himself  than  has  Tennyson.  Still, 
in  the  comparative  study  of  the  various  editions  of  no 
poet's  works  can  you  more  clearly  trace  the  development 
of  the  poet's  mind  and  the  growth  in  his  firmness  of 
artistic  touch.  You  have  all  grown  familiar  with  his 
beautiful  thoughts,  his  noble  ideals  of  life,  his  rare  deli- 
cacy of  expression,  his  exquisite  taste,  his  conservatism 
in  imagery,  in  propriety  of  conduct,  and  in  the  use  of 
words.  Unlike  Browning  frequently,  and  Goethe  at  times, 
he  carries  very  few  enigmas  on  his  sleeve  for  the  reading 
world  to  puzzle  over.  Unlike  AVordsworth,  he  is  reticent 
about  self  and  very  sparing  in  words.  Minds  open  to 
his  impressions  and  yield  to  his  influence  more  easily 
than  to  the  impressions  and  the  influence  of  Wordsworth 
or  Browning.  Unfortunately,  the  Tennyson  that  is  known 
to  many  readers  is  a  traditional  Tennyson,  the  measure 
of   whose  genius  is  determined  by  a  few  of  his  early 


1  io  Books  and  Reading, 

poems  of  exquisite  finish,  such  as  Locksley  Hall,  or  'J^kt 
May-Queen.  Such  pieces  as  these  are  but  the  blossom- 
ings of  a  rich  and  ripe  fruitage.  The  Tennyson  that  1 
would  have  you  know  is  a  poet  of  thought  as  well  as  a 
poet  of  sentiment. 

We  will  not  quarrel  with  his  dramatic  poems.  They 
are  not  without  great  intrinsic  merit.  True  it  is,  the 
author  places  King  Edward  the  Confessor,  Queen  Marv, 
and  Becket  in  a  false  historical  light,  in  which  he  shows 
himself  as  narrow  a  bigot  as  Browning.  True  also  is  it 
that  the  poet's  work  is  to  create  characters,  and  not  to 
reproduce  history.  And  no  doubt,  Tennyson  believes 
that  if  he  chooses  to  make  Edward  inane,  and  Mary 
hysterical,  and  Becket  at  times  maudlin,  he  is  acting 
within  his  rights  as  a  poet  and  taking  liberties  with  his- 
tory that  Shakspere  and  Walter  Scott  did  not  disdain.* 
Moreover,  has  he  not  the  accumulated  prejudices  and 
distortions  of  history  for  three  centuries  to  sustain  his 
action  ?  None  the  less  has  he  transmitted  in  the  amber 
of  his  lines  false  notions  of  Catholic  historical  person- 
ages that  thousands  of  heedless  readers  will  accept  as 
true  history.  In  this  sense  he  does  us  an  injustice,  and 
beautified  injustice  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  measure 
of  literary  or  artistic  merit.  Read  the  Becket  of  Aubrey 
de  Vere  by  the  side  of  that  of  Tennyson,  and  you  will 

*  S^Q  Aw Y  Rohsart  and  tke  Earl  of  Leicester:  A  Critical  Inquiry. 
By  George  Adlard,  London,  1870.  See  also  Scribner^s  Magazine^ 
December,  1890. 


Tennyson,  1 1 1 


see  how  a  great  poet  can  be  historically  correct,  and  at 
the  same  time  create  a  noble  character. 

We  will  stop  at  Maud  only  long  enough  to  say  that  it 
is  a  splendid  study  of  a  morbid  hysterical  character; 
not  as  Mr.  Richard  Holt  Hutton  would  have  it,  a  carica- 
ture or  "  an  exposure  of  hysterics,"  *  but  the  genuine 
hysterical  mood  with  its  screeching  falsetto  notes  ring- 
ing through  extremes  of  joy  and  extremes  of  sadness, 
till  the  hero  recovers  the  equilibrium  of  his  maddened 
brain. 

"  'Tis  time,  O  passionate  heart  and  morbid  eye. 
That  old  hysterical  mock-disease  should  die." 

In  these  lines  have  we  the  key  to  the  whole  poem.  The 
language  is  not  the  language  of  a  well-balanced  mind — 
and  as  such  it  must  needs  be  imperfect,  irregular,  and 
at  times  unrhythmic. 

Nor  will  we  do  more  than  touch  upon  another  poem 
that  has  been  greatly  misunderstood,  and  scarcely  ap- 
preciated at  its  full  value;  I  mean  The  Princess.  It  is 
an  exquisite  contribution,  in  playful  mock-heroic  style,  to 
the  vexed  and  ever-growing  problem  of  woman^s  place 
in  the  modern  world.  She  certainly  holds  the  right 
place  in  Tennyson^s  own  heart.  And  we  all  of  us  must 
feel  indebted  to  the  poet,  and  we  must  greatly  cherisli 
the  poem  in  which  we  find  so  beautifully  interpreted  oiir 
deepest  thoughts  regarding  that  being  whom  every  man 

*   Essays  Theological  and  Literary^  vol.  ii,,  p.  308. 


1 1 2  Books  and  Reading. 

tenderly   cherishes   in   his   heart   of   hearts — the    fond 
mother: — 

"  One 


Not  learned,  save  in  gracious  household  ways, 
Not  perfect,  nay,  but  full  of  tender  wants  ; 
No  angel,  but  a  dearer  being  all  dipt 
In  angel  instincts,  breathing  paradise, 
Interpreter  between  the  gods  and  men, 
Who  looked  all  native  to  her  place,  and  yet 
On  tiptoe  seemed  to  touch  upon  a  sphere 
Too  gross  to  tread,  and  all  male  minds  perforce 
Swayed  to  her  from  their  orbits  as  they  moved, 
And  girdled  her  with  music.     Happy  he 
With  such  a  mother  !     P^aith  in  womankind 
Beats  with  his  blood,  and  trust  in  all  things  high 
Comes  easy  to  him,  and,  though  he  trip  and  fall, 
He  shall  not  blind  his  soul  with  clay."'  * 

Assuredly,  our  literature  is  all  the  richer  for  so  noble  a 
passage.     But  we  must  not  tarry. 

There  is,  however,  one  caution  that  I  would  give  you 
in  reading  Tennyson.  It  is  that  you  do  not  mistake  the 
exquisite  simplicity  of  his  language  for  poverty  of  ex- 
pression or  barrenness  of  thought.  Language  is  for  him 
the  graceful  drapery  every  fold  of  which  all  the  more 
distinctly  reveals  the  body  of  thought  which  it  clothes. 
The  words  are  so  simple,  and  the  rhythm  is  so  musical, 
you  are  easily  beguiled  into  the  illusion  that  upon  a  first 
reading  you  have  grasped  the  whole  meaning  of  the 

*   The  Princess, 


Tennyson.  113 


poem.  Not  so,  however.  All  great  art  leaves  unsaid 
more  than  it  expresses,  and  its  influence  is  in  proportion 
to  its  power  of  suggesting  or  evoking  the  unsaid  things. 
It  may  be  that  occasionally,  in  his  desire  for  artistic  finish, 
the  poet  stops  short  of  the  word  or  the  line  that  would 
remove  a  certain  vagueness  which  readers  of  culture 
feel  after  the  study  of  some  of  his  philosophical  poems. 
Even  the  genius  of  a  Goethe — infinitely  suggestive 
though  he  be,  and  great  word-master  that  he  was — does 
not  always  satisfy  the  student  of  his  deeper  poems.  We 
must  also  bear  in  mind  that  the  poetical  treatment  is 
distinct  from  the  philosophical  treatment  of  a  subject. 
Especially  is  it  to  be  remembered  when  reading  hi 
Memoriam.  This  is  one  of  the  most  representative 
poems  of  our  age.  Its  sentiments,  its  gropings,  its  as- 
pirations, its  questionings,  all  find  a  voice  in  language 
as  simple  and  delicate  as  ever  clothed  profound  thought. 
The  poem  is  not  simply  the  utterings  of  a  soul  bewailing 
a  dt'ar  departed  friend;  it  is  much  more  for  those  who 
would  fathom  its  whole  meaning;  it  is  the  cry  of  a  soul 
weighed  down  with  the  problems  of  the  day,  and  in  the 
presence  of  death  wrestling  with  the  doubts  and  philo- 
sophical shadows  that  hover  over  the  mystery  of  the 
grave — struggling  and  groping  and  passing  from  the 
darkness  of  scepticism  into  the  light  of  Christian  reve- 
lation. 

In  like  manner,  the  Idylls  of  the  King^  as  they  now  stand 
completed  in  their  unity  of  plan  and  grandeur  of  design, 


1 1 4  Books  and  Reading. 

are  more  than  mere  transcripts  from  Mallory's  Morte 
d' Arthur,  From  out  of  this  romance,  and  from  the 
Chronicle  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  and  from  the  Ma- 
binogion  as  translated  by  Lady  Guest,*  the  poet  had  taken 
the  old  material  and  therewith  erected  unto  himself 
an  altogether  new  temple  of  song,  having  a  new  mean- 
ing and  significance — 

♦'  New-old  and  shadowing  sense  at  war  with  soul, 
Rather  than  that  gray  king,  whose  name,  a  ghost, 
Streams  Uke  a  cloud,  man-shaped,  from  mountain-peak, 
And  cleaves  to  Cairn  and  Cromlech  still."  t 

The  poem  shadows  forth  the  soul's  moral  struggles 
through  all  stages  of  life,  from  that  of  unsuspecting 
youth  to  that  of  experienced  old  age. 

And  here  I  would  dwell  a  moment  upon  the  central 
poem  containing  the  central  thought  of  the  Idylls. 
Though  the  poet  has  breathed  a  modern  spirit  into  his 
poem,  still  he  could  not  if  he  would  separate  the  subject 
from  its  Catholic  groundwork.  He  has  therefore  re- 
tained the  Holy  Grail  as  the  central  idea  of  the  struct- 
ure, even  as  it  was  the  central  point  of  the  older  Arthur- 
ian cycle  of  romances.  \ 

*  Professor  Rhuys  of  Oxford  is  now  completing  a  new  edition  of  the 
Mabinogion,  giving  the  full  text  in  the  original  Welsh,  and  in  the  ac- 
companying translation  supplying  the  numerous  passages  omitted  by 
Lady  Guest: 

t  Idylls  of  the  Kivg :  Dedication  to  the  Queen. 

X  I  have  explained  the  meaning  of  the  Holy  Grail  in  Philosophy  oj 
Literature,  sixth  edition,  pp.  90-96. 


Tennyson.  115 


The  Idylls  deal  with  Catholic  times  and  are  rooted  in 
Catholic  customs.  Comments  upon  them  are  numerous 
enough.  But  why  cannot  they  be  made  without  casting 
slurs  upon  our  religion  ?  Why  cannot  mediaeval  times 
be  alluded  to  without  identifying  them  with  superstition  ? 
Superstition  there  was  then  and  superstition  there  is 
still.  Here  is  an  author  who,  speaking  in  1878  of  the 
allegorical  and  mystical  thread  running  through  the 
Jilylls,  among  many  good  and  beautiful  things  to  which 
we  can  subscribe,  says  of  the  Holy  Grail:  ''It  shows  us 
how  our  poor  fallen  humanity — inwardly  conscious  of  its 
own  partial  degradation  and  failure,  and  yet  in  its  sin- 
born  blindness  feeling  after  higher  things  with  but  feeble 
and  uncertain  touch — seeks,  indeed,  to  still  the  cravings 
of  its  soul  with  Religion  ;  but  lowers  and  degrades  that 
sacred  form  by  confounding  her  with  the  fantastic  shape 
of  her  counterfeit  sister.  Superstition.  ...  In  this  as- 
pect the  poem  cuts  at  the  root  of  all  those  countless 
undisciplined  and  extravagant  growths  borne  by  the  fair 
tree  of  Religion  when  suffered  to  run  wild."  And 
amongst  these  growths  so  cut  at  the  author  instances 
**the  whole  system  of  monasticism."  *  Now,  does  this 
author  know  the  whole  meaning  of  the  Holy  Grail  ? 
Does  he  know  that  in  the  original  intention  of  the  first 
poet  who  gave  it  a  place  in  legend  and  story,  it  is  an 
emblem  of  the  Holy  Eucharist  and  an  allegory  prefigur- 
ing spiritual  perfection  ?     Is  it  superstition  for  Galahad 

*  Henry  Elsdale,  Studies  in  the  Idylls,  pp.  58,  59. 


1 1 6  Books  and  Reading. 

and  Percivale  to  break  with  their  present  life  and  seek 
the  higher  spiritual  perfection  ?  We  fear  there  are  more 
things  in  the  Holy  Grail  than  are  dreamt  of  in  Mr. 
Elsdale's  philosophy. 

Again,  in  an  admirable  and  suggestive  book  recently 
issued  on  the  poetry  of  Tennyson,  I  find  the  beautiful 
Catholic  meaning  of  the  poem  ignored  and  a  wholly 
foreign  meaning  imposed  upon  it.  "  The  Holy  Grail,'' 
says  the  author,  "  shows  us  the  strife  between  supersti- 
tion, which  is  a  sensual  religion,  and  true  faith,  which  is 
spiritual.  .  .  .  Out  of  the  mystical  twilight  which  envel- 
ops the  action  this  truth  emerges:  that  those  knights 
who  thought  of  the  Grail  only  as  an  external  wonder,  a 
miracle  whicli  they  fain  would  see  because  others  had 
seen  it,  ^  followed  wandering  fires; '  while  those  to  whom 
it  became  a  symbol  of  inward  purity  and  grace,  like  Ga- 
lahad and  Percivale,  and  even  the  dull,  honest,  simple- 
minded  Bors  and  the  sin-tormented  Launcelot,  finally 
attained  unto  the  vision.'^  *  This  is  decidedly  an  un- 
Catholic  interpretation.  It  is  an  interpretation  that  the 
poem  will  not  bear  and  that  the  poet  would  not  sanction. 
It  is  not  superstition  that  concealed  the  vision  from 
Launcelot  in  the  hall ;  it  is  Launcelot's  sin — 

**  His  honor  rooted  in  dishonor  stood, 

And  faith  unfaithful  kept  him  falsely  true  "  t 

It  is  not  simply  because  the  Grail  was  "  a  symbol   of 

*  Henry  Van  Dyke]:    The  Poetry  of  Tennysotty  p.  184. 
t  Elaine. 


Tennyson.  1 1 7 


purity  and  grace  "  to  Galahad  and  Percivale  that  these 
noble  knights  had  the  vision  of  it,  it  is  because  purity 
and  grace  dwelt  in  their  unsullied  hearts  and  innocent 
lives.     The  light  of  God's  grace  descends  upon   these 
men  of  prowess  and  courtly  demeanor,  and  the  fire  of 
God's  love  becomes  enkindled  in  their  souls,  and  forth- 
with those  amongst  them  who  are  pure  of  heart,  and 
those  amongst  them  who  are  repentant  at  heart,  leave 
the  gayeties  of  joust  and  tournament,  and  the  excitements 
of  knightly  adventure,  and  kingly  approval,  and  lady's 
smile,  to  follow  the  superior  spiritual  life  typified  in  the 
quest  of  the  Holy  Grail.     Nothing  can  hold  them  back. 
Not  the  cynical  sneers  of  a  Modred ;    not  the  practical 
common-sense   reasoning   of   an    Arthur.       They   lose 
themselves   that  they  may  save  their   souls.     Whither 
the  Spirit  of  God  directs  them,  thither  flee  they,  heed- 
less of  obstacles.      They  get  shrived  of  their  sins;  by 
prayer  and  fasting  and  humiliation  and  the  annihilation 
of   self  and   incessant   struggle    with    half-maddening 
passions,   as  in  the   case   of   Launcelot,   they    prepare 
themselves   to   comprehend    and    to  live  that  spiritual 
life   which  they  had   hitherto  neglected.     This  is  the 
meaning  I  read  in  that  magnificent  poem.     And  when 
I  go  back  to  the  poem  as  it  exists  in  earlier  forms  than 
those  from  which  Tennyson  drew,  I  find  this  meaning 
confirmed.     **  The  Voice  instructs  Joseph  of  Arimathea 
as  follows:      *  Place  a  cloth  upon  the  greensward.     Let 
thy  people  seat  themselves  around.     When  they  shall 


1 1 8  Books  and  Reading. 


be  ready  to  eat,  tell  thy  son  Joseph  to  take  the  vase  and 
to  make  therewith  a  circuit  three  times.  Forthwith 
those  who  are  pure  of  heart  shall  be  replenished  with  all 
possible  sweets.  .  .  .  But  from  the  moment  that  they 
yield  them  to  the  wicked  sin  of  luxury  they  shall  lose 
the  grace  whence  come  to  them  so  many  delights.'.  .  . 
The  repast  finished,  Joseph  replaced  the  Graal  as  it 
had  been  before."  *  Surely,  it  were  worth  men^s  while 
to  know  whereof  they  write  before  putting  pen  to 
paper.  And  here  we  must  part  with  Tennyson,  leaving 
his  lyric  sweetness,  his  studies  in  the  real — witness  The 
Northern  Fdr??ier — his  genuine  humor,  his  deep  scorn, 
and  many  other  aspects  of  his  poetic  greatness  un- 
touched. 

Wordsworth — Tennyson — Browning: — all  three  gave 
a  long  and  laborious  life  to  their  art  and  to  the  maturing 
of  their  ideas;  all  three  built  upon  a  philosophical  foun- 
dation; all  three  made  the  poetic  art  subservient  to 
spiritual  life;  all  three  tower  above  their  contemporaries 
as  the  highest  and  best  representatives  of  English  poet- 
ry. But  each  supplements  the  other  two.  Wordsworth 
and  Tennyson  have  the  roots  of  their  sympathies  deep- 
ly planted  in  English  soil;  Browning  is  cosmopolitan. 
Wordsworth  deals  with  the  humble  and  the  common- 
place, teaches  us  how  to  make  a  companion  of  the 
material  universe,  and  in  his  treatment  of  persons  and 

*  Paulin  Paris,  Les  Romans  de  la  Table  Rondey  t.  i.,  Le  Saint-Graal, 
p.  198. 


Tejinyson.  119 


things  possesses,  in  the  words  of  his  friend  and  ad- 
mirer, '^the  original  gift  of  spreading  the  tone,  the 
atmosphere,  and  with  it  the  depth  and  height  of  the 
ideal  world  around  forms,  incidents,  and  situations  of 
which,  for  the  common  view,  custom  had  bedimmed  all 
the  lustre,  had  dried  up  the  sparkle  and  the  dew-drops/'  * 
Tennyson,  with  exquisite  art,  interprets  the  comforts  and 
customs  and  proprieties  of  respectable  English  life,  and 
the  decorous  and  the  fitting  in  the  present  order  of 
things.  Poverty  and  distress  and  humble  living  do  not 
inspire  him  as  they  do  Wordsworth;  he  has  no  social 
theories  with  which  to  revolutionize  the  world  like 
Shelley ;  no  private  grievance  to  air  before  the  public, 
like  Byron;  the  present  order  suits  him.  To  be  a 
member  of  the  Establishment  in  religion  with  rather 
Broad-Church  views,  an  English  gentleman,  respectable 
in  society  and  conservative  in  politics, — this  is  his  ideal 
of  life.  Browning  has  naught  to  do  with  the  external 
frame-work  of  society.  His  business  is  with  souls — souls 
happy  in  their  innocence  and  ignorance  of  the  world,  as 
the  beautiful  soul  of  Pippa;  souls  disintegrating;  souls 
petrifying  in  inaction;  souls  restless  and  running  to 
ruin  and  wreck  ;  souls  blooming  into  life  and  action 
beneath  the  rays  of  true  love;  sordid  souls  defending 
their  sordidness;  callous  souls  steeped  in  sin  and  crime; 
souls  chafing  under  their  entanglements  and  yet  unable 
to  clear  themselves  from  the   meshes — remember   that 

*  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  Biogmphia  Literaria,  p.  2c6. 


20  Books  and  Reading. 


plaintive  cry  of  the  great  painter  when  he  finds  his 
uispiration  passing  beyond  recall  under  the  evil  influ- 
ence of  an  unworthy  wife: 

"  But  all  the  play,  the  insight,  and  the  stretch 
Out  of  me,  out  of  me  "  * — 

souls  distorted  and  souls  beautiful;  souls  strong  and 
souls  weak;  souls  loving  their  sins  and  souls  loathing 
them — souls,  souls,  always  souls;  for,  says  Browning, 
"  little  else  is  worth  study."  f 

Poetry  in  its  highest  and  most  enduring  form  is  not  a 
matter  of  mere  receptivity  of  impression,  the  mere  sub- 
mission of  the  soul  to  the  luxury  of  musical  sound  and 
bright  imagery.  The  Paradise  of  Dante  is  not  so  mas- 
tered. Nor  can  you  upon  a  single  reading,  or  a  single 
witnessing  of  a  play  of  Shakspere\  fathom  the  mean- 
ing of  that  play.  If  Shakspere  or  Dante  possessed  no 
other  thought  than  that  which  a  mere  surface  gleaning 
could  gather,  they  could  never  have  become  the  great 
influencing  agencies  in  literature  that  they  now  are. 
Their  meaning  runs  deeper  than  a  Mother-Goose  story 
or  a  modern  novel.  Every  great  poet  can  say  with 
Browning:  "  I  never  pretended  to  offer  such  literature 
as  should  be  a  substitute  for  a  cigar  or  a  game  at  domi- 
noes to  an  idle  man."  J  I  heard  Mr.  Henry  Morley  tell  a 
class  in  London,  that  it  was  only  after  thirty-five  read- 

*  Andrea  del  Sarto,  \  Sordello,  Dedication. 

\  S'iarp's  Lift:  of  Brownings  p.  l8o. 


English  Literature  rooted  in  Catholic  Soil.       121 

ings  of  Julius  CcBsar,  the  central  thought  of  that  master- 
piece dawned  upon  him.  Think  you  that  his  pains  were 
not  well  repaid  by  this  insight  into  the  underlying  prin- 
ciple that  gave  life  and  meaning  to  every  line  in  that  play  ? 
— Henceforth,  to  him  and  to  those  who  heard  his  interpre- 
tation, every  additional  reading  brings  with  it  new  light 
and  a  deeper  source  of  pleasure.  But  just  here  a  serious 
reflection  occurs:  If  one  of  our  most  widely  read 
English  scholars  found  it  such  a  task  to  penetrate  to  the 
life-giving  principle  of  what  is  not  by  any  means  the  most 
complex  of  Shakspere's  dramatic  pieces,  how  can  we 
pretend  to  an  understanding  of  that  wonderful  master 
of  the  human  heart  upon  one  or  two  hasty  readings  ? — 
And  from  this  reflection  let  us  take  home  to  ourselves 
the  lesson  that  it  behooves  us  to  bring  to  poetry  in  its 
highest  forms  our  closest  attention  and  our  best  thoughts 
if  we  would  learn  the  whole  message  it  would  impart. 

XII. 

It  is  only  within  the  present  century  that  English- 
speaking  Catholics  have  begun  to  build  up  a  distinc- 
tively Catholic  literature.  — During  the  past  two  centuries 
our  English  and  Irish  missionaries  found  it  difficult 
to  live.  The  hardships  and  privations  they  endured 
were  most  exhausting.  And  yet  their  pens  were  not  idle. 
Their  people  needed  plain  and  solid  instruction,  and 
they  met  the  want.     They  placed  in  their  hands  the 


T  2  2  Books  and  Reading. 


Rheims-Douay  version  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures.  Bishop 
Challoner  wrote  his  Catholic  Christian  Instructed ;  Bishop 
Hay  was  led  into  the  Church  by  the  reading  of  an 
anonymous  pamphlet,  Papists  Represented  and  Misrepre- 
sented^ and  afterwards  put  out  those  beautiful  works  of 
doctrine,  The  Pious  Christian^  The  Devout  Chi'istian^  The 
Si?icere  Christian;  Bishop  Hornihold  explained  the  Com- 
mandments and  Sacraments;  Dr.  Husenbeth  wrote  on 
the  Creed;  Bishop  Milner  wrote  his  admirable  End  of 
Controversy  J  Alban  Butler  left  us  that  great  monument 
of  erudition  and  repository  of  learning,  his  Lives  of  the 
Saints.  Bishop  Walmesley  was  a  man  of  vast  scientific 
attainments,  and  was  one  of  the  mathematicians  employed 
to  regulate  the  calendar  preparatory  to  the  adoption  of 
the  New  Style  in  1752.*  This  was  the  nature  of  the  work 
done  by  our  clergy  in  the  eighteenth  century  It  was 
not  brilliant,  but  it  was  solid,  useful,  and  necessary 
work.  These  men  did  not  cultivate  style.  They  were 
obliged  to  study  abroad,  and  after  spending  years  on 
the  Continent,  they  returned  to  England  with  foreign 
accents  ringing  in  their  ears  and  foreign  idioms  slipping 
into  their  writings. 

English  classical  literature,  since  the  days  of  Spenser 
and  Shakspere,  has  been  Protestant.  The  authors  who 
have  helped  to  build  up  our  language;  the  authors  from 

*  See  Allibone's  Dictionary  of  Authors  for  a  list  of  his  religions  and  scientific 
books  in  Latin,  French,  and  English.  Several  of  his  MSB.  were  burned  in  the 
anti-Catholic  riots  of  1780. 


Englisli  Literature  Rooted  in  Catholic  Soil.    123 

whom  we  cull  those  expressions  that  have  become  part 
and  parcel  of  our  daily  thinking  ;  the  authors  to  whose 
pages  we  refer  for  the  allusions  in  which  the  writings  of 
the  day  abound,  are,  with  few  exceptions,  in  spirit  and 
tone  Protestant.  And  yet  it  is  a  surprise  and  a  happi- 
ness to  know  that  outside  the  domain  of  history,  which 
has  been  shamefully  perverted  by  the  Burnets,  the 
Robertsons,  the  Gibbons,  the  Humes,  the  Macaulays, 
and  the  Froudes,  a  Catholic  can  take  home  to  himself  a 
goodly  portion  of  this  literature,  without  having  his 
Catholic  instincts  wounded  or  his  moral  sense  blunted. 
I  have  strayed  into  many  fields  of  literature,  and  culled 
flowers  in  many  languages,  and  I  can  bear  witness  that, 
whilst  there  are  certain  works  in  other  languages  which 
I  appreciate  more  highly  than  works  of  the  same  grade 
in  our  own  tongue,  still,  taking  the  literature  of  various 
countries  as  a  whole,  there  is  none  of  less  objectionable 
character  and  of  more  elevating  tone  than  is  English 
literature,  in  its  grand  roll  of  authors  from  Widsith,  the 
old  English  gleeman  of  the  fourth  century,  down  to  the 
present  laureate.  But  for  this  boon  we  are  not  to  thank 
the  Protestantism  of  England.  It  is  rather  due  to  the 
fact  that  the  roots  of  English  literature  struck  deep  in 
Catholic  soil,  and  the  conservative  character  of  the 
English  people  kept  up  the  Catholic  spirit  and  the  Cath- 
olic traditions  long  after  the  very  name  of  Catholic  had 
become  offensive.  That  Catholic  spirit  still  lingers  in 
the  cloistered  aisles  and  corridors  of  Oxford.     It  hovers 


1 24  Books  and  Reading. 

over  the  vacant  tomb  of  Edward  the  Confessor  within 
the  hallowed  walls  of  Westminster  Abbey.  It  speaks  in 
tower  and  pillared  dome  throughout  the  land,  "  of  which 
every  arch  has  its  scroll  teaching  Catholic  wisdom,  and 
every  window  represents  some  canonized  saint."  *  It 
breathes  through  the  Catholic  prayers  still  preserved  in 
The  Book  of  Common  Prayer.  It  has  become  transfused 
into  some  of  the  noblest  passages  in  Paradise  Lost ;  the 
Arianism  and  the  Protestantism  are  Milton's  own;  but 
his  magnificent  lines  clothe  many  a  sentiment  of  tender- 
ness and  sublimity  culled  from  the  pages  of  Caedmon,  St. 
Avitus,  Andreini,  the  Catholic  mediaeval  miracle  plays, 
and  Lucifer^  the  Catholic  drama  of  Vondel,  the  great 
Catholic  and  national  poet  of  Holland,  f  It  lurks  in  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  as  much  of  it  as  John  Bunyan  chose 
to  spell  out  of  the  prose  translation  of  the  original  Pil- 
grim's Progress,  Le  Pelerinage  de  V Homme  of  the  Cister- 
cian monk  Guillaume  de  Deguilleville.J;  It  is  our  Catho- 
lic heritage  of  thought  and  sentiment  that  has  inspired  the 


♦  Kenelm  Digby :  Mores  Catholici,  vol.  i.,  p.  22. 

t  Francis  Junius  introduced  Milton  to  Csedmon ;  Roger  Williams,  of  Rhode 
Island,  taught  him  the  language  of  Vondel.  See  Looten  :  Etude  littiraire  sur  le 
^He  nierlandais  Vondel.     Bruxelles,  1889. 

X  Not  The  Wandering  Knight  of  Jean  de  Carthenay,  as  has  been  recently  as- 
serted; not  even,  perhaps,  the  complete  copy  of  the  Pilgrimage  of  the  Lyf  of  tlu 
Manhodey  which  I  have  before  me  ;  but  an  abridgment  of  it,  which,  Mr.  Wright  tells 
us,  was  copied  and  circulated  in  MS.  in  the  seventeenth  century  (Pilgrimage  of  the 
Lyf  of  the  Manhode,  preface,  p.  x.).  John  Lydgate  made  a  poetical  translation  of 
the  original  poem  in  1426.  There  are  two  copies  of  his  translation  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum, the  best  of  which  is  in  the  Cottonian  Collection  (Vitellius,  c  xiiL,  fol.  2-308). 


Orestes  A,  Brownson. 


sublimest  passages  in  our  Wordsworths  and  Tennysons, 
our  Longfellows  and  Lowells.  And  whatever  Shakspere 
may  have  been  in  practice,  the  whole  spirit  of  his  im- 
mortal plays  is  Catholic.  Even  Carlyle  regards  him  as 
the  flowering  of  mediaeval  Catholicism.  *  "  Indeed," 
says  Digby,  "  a  book  might  be  composed  on  the  latent 
Catholicism  of  many  natives  of  this  country,  where 
everything  solid  and  valuable  is,  after  all,  either  a  rem- 
nant or  a  revival  of  Catholic  thinking  or  institution."  f 

VIII. 

I.  All  honor,  then,  to  those  who  at  many  and  great 
sacrifices,  and  actuated  by  the  pure  love  of  God  and  their 
religion,  have  sought  to  wrest  back  for  us  a  portion  of 
our  Catholic  heritage  in  English  literature.  There 
are  names  connected  with  Catholic  literature  in  America 
that  we  should  ever  hold  in  honor  and  benediction.  Such 
is  the  name  of  Orestes  A.  Brownson.  %  Do  we  realize 
all  the  greatness  covered  by  that  name  ?  America  has 
produced  no  more  powerful  intellect  than  Brownson's. 
There  was  no  problem,  social,  political,  religious,  or 
philosophical,  that  he  did  not  grapple  with  and  find  an 
answer  for.     After  trying  creed  upon  creed  to  find  out 

♦  French  Revolution,  b.  i,,  ch.  i. 

t  Mores  Catkolici,  vol.  i.,  p.  25.  Mr.  P.  O'Shea  has  made  American  Catholics 
his  debtors  by  the  publication  of  this  magnificent  work,  hitherto  so  long  out  of  print, 
hard  to  procure,  and  expensive.  It  is  a  great  Catholic  classic.  The  more  it  is  read, 
the  better  it  will  be  appreciated. 

%  Died,  April  17,  1876,  aet.  73. 


1 26  Books  and  Reading, 

the  hollowness  of  each,  the  aspirations  of  his  strong  and 
generous  nature  and  the  invincible  logic  of  his  acute 
intellect  led  him  into  the  Church,  in  the  strength  and 
maturity  of  his  manhood.  Forthwith  he  consecrated  his 
pen  to  the  vindication  of  that  Church  and  the  defense  of 
her  doctrines  against  all  comers.  Mediaeval  knight 
never  bore  lance  with  greater  singleness  of  purpose,  or 
with  more  bravery  and  determination,  in  the  cause  of 
his  lady-love,  than  did  Brownson  wield  his  pen  in  behalf 
of  the  Church.  To  his  dying  breath  he  was  faithful  to 
his  vow.  He  viewed,  and  taught  others  to  view,  the 
doctrines  of  the  Church  from  an  elevated  plane,  from 
which  they  were  apprehended  as  a  whole  and  all  their 
grandeur  and  beauty  revealed  to  advantage.  Men  might 
differ  with  him  in  politics — his  political  opinions  were 
odious  to  many  among  his  readers,  and  yet  his  politi- 
cal principles,  in  the  main,  were  sound  and  fully  vindi- 
cated by  subsequent  events  ;  men  might  differ  with  him 
in  criticism — in  spite  of  his  elevated  artistic  ideal,  some 
there  were  who  regarded  his  literary  canons  as  narrow 
and  inadequate  ;  men  might  differ  with  him  in  philoso- 
phy—his language  smacked  too  much  of  Gioberti  *  to 
please  the  intellect  trained  on  exclusively  Cartesian  or 
Scholastic  lines  ;  he  may  have  been  mistaken  in  matters 
of  theology — in  unguarded  moments,  in  the  heat  of 
controversy,  he  may  sometimes  have  expressed  himself 

*  Brownson  was  a  warm  admirer  but  in  no  sense  a  disciple  of  Gioberti;  he  reached 
his  philosophical  conclusions  independently  of  the  Italian  philosopher. 


Orestes  A.  Brozvnson.  127 

in  language  that  a  better  trained  theologian  would  not 
employ,  or  would  modify  considerably  ;  but  he  was  still 
great;  there  remained  in  his  politics,  in  his  philosophy, 
in  his  theological  discussions,  in  his  literary  and  art  crit- 
icism, enough  to  instruct,  elevate,  inspire,  and  compel 
admiration,  *  The  very  ring  of  his  sentences  was  a 
trumpet-blast  to  us  of  the  rising  generation.  He  taught 
us  how  to  take  our  stand  upon  his  own  high  plane  of 
thought,  and  thence  survey  the  beautiful  harmony  of  our 
creed  with  all  that  is  good  and  noble  in  the  natural  world. 
He  brought  home,  not  to  us  alone,  but  to  the  cultured 

♦  Brownson  himself,  in  his  old  age,  with  all  the  candor  and  humility  of  a  great 
and  noble  soul,  recognized  his  own  shortcomings  in  the  following  generous  sen- 
tences :  "  I  have  always  regretted  that  circumstances  not  under  my  control 
seemed  to  compel  me  to  appear  as  a  Catholic  reviewer  on  the  morrow  of  my  recep- 
tion into  the  Church,  while  almost  totally  ignorant  of  Catholic  theology,  and  still 
more  ignorant  of  Catholic  life  and  usages  ;  and  I  have  often  admired  in  later  years 
the  wondrous  charity  of  the  Catholic  bishops  and  clergy  in  overlooking  the  crude- 
hess  and  inexperience,  if  not  the  overweening  confidence,  of  the  neophyte,  and  in 
giving  a  generous  support  to  his  Review,  notwithstanding  the  manifest  inaptness  of 
its  editor.  It  is  true,  I  studied  hard  day  and  night  for  several  years,  under  an  able 
master,  to  supply  my  deficiency  ;  and,  also,  that  I  published  very  little  which  was 
not  previously  examined  and  revised  by  one  of  the  ablest  and  soundest  theologians 
I  have  ever  personally  known  ;  but  it  was  a  great  drawback  upon  the  usefuln«ss  of 
the  Review,  that  its  editor  and  principal  writer  had  not  had  leisure  previously  to 
make  his  course  of  theology  and  to  place  himself  en  rapport  with  the  Catholic 
community,  and  that  he  had  in  every  successive  number  to  write  up  to  the  very 
limits  of  his  knowledge,  if  not  sometimes  beyond  them,  I  had  always  to  write  as 
an  apprentice,  never  as  a  master.  I  have  not  made  much  progress  in  the  knowledge 
of  theology,  and  still  less  of  spiritual  life  ;  I  have  also  forgot  much  of  what  I  had 
acquired ;  but  I  have  learned  this  much— not  to  venture  beyond  my  depth,  and  not 
to  broach  questions  which  I  have  not  mastered,  or,  at  least,  think  I  have  mastered. 
If  I  could  have  done  so  in  the  beginning,  I  should  have  spared  myself  and  my 
friends  many  mortifications.  "—Brownson's  Works,  vol.  xix.,  p.  587. 


1 28  Books  and  Reading. 

intellect  throughout  the  Christian  world — for  he  had  ad- 
mirers in  all  parts  and  among  all  creeds — the  great  truths 
of  natural  and  revealed  religion  with  a  grasp,  a  force,  and 
an  energy  of  expression  worthy  of  an  Aquinas.  We 
were  led  to  hold  up  our  heads  and  to  be  proud  of  the 
faith  that  could  inspire  such  sublime  thoughts  and  control 
such  a  noble  nature.  His  great  intellect  was  only  equalled 
by  his  profound  humility.  Once  his  bishop  told  him 
that  in  consequence  of  some  objectionable  tenets  in  his 
Review  he  would  be  obliged  to  censure  him  publicly. 
The  old  mean's  reply  was:  *'  Bishop,  you  may  condemn 
and  burn  my  books  if  you  will,  but  by  the  grace  of  God 
I  shall  die  a  Catholic."  *  And  a  docile,  pious,  believing 
child  of  the  Church  he  died.  We  of  America  owe 
Brownson  a  debt  of  gratitude  that  our  children's  children 
can  but  ill  requite. 

2.  When  Brownson  was  already  a  leader  among  men 
there  was  wont  to  sit  at  his  feet  a  youth  whom  he  looked 
kindly  upon,  and  who  afterwards,  growing  into  manhood, 
threw  aside  the  shackles  of  prejudice  and  error,  and  enter- 
ing the  Church,  became  a  freeman  with  the  freedom  that 
truth  alone  gives,  f  To  speak  of  books  or  of  reading 
and  not  to  mention  the  name  of  Father  Hecker  J  were  an 

*  I  received  this  incident  from  the  lips  of  the  Most  Rev.,  the  late  Archbishop  Bayley . 

t  He  says  of  his  conversion  :  "  It  was  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  our  life 
when  we  discovered  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  not  required  of  us  either  to 
abandon  our  reason  or  drown  it  in  a  false  excitement  of  feeling  to  be  a  religious 
man.  That  to  become  Catholic,  so  far  from  being  contrary  to  reason,  was  a  supreme 
act  of  reason.  " — Aspirations  of  the  Soul,  p.  286. ' 

X  Died,  Dec.  22, 1888,  act.  69. 


Father  Hccker.  129 


unpardonable  oversight.  He  was  a  man  of  generous 
impulse  and  noble  aspirations,  v/ho  thought  better  of  the 
v/orld  than  the  world  has  deserved.  His  thirst  for  souls 
was  insatiable.  Having  learned  how  good  it  was  to 
live  within  the  pale  of  the  Church,  he  would  bring  all 
men  to  share  his  peace  and  his  joy.  He  loved  American 
youths  with  the  eager,  hungering  love  of  a  father  who 
saw  his  children  in  danger  of  drowning  and  would  save 
them  at  any  cost.  He  felt  the  pulse  of  the  American 
5^outh,  divined  his  yearnings,  laid  bare  to  him  his  better 
aspirations,  and  showed  him  where  every  beat  of  his 
heart  and  every  question  of  his  soul  would  find  satisfac- 
tory response.  You  could  not  be  in  his  presence  for 
five  minutes  without  feeling  your  soul  set  aflame  with 
the  same  pure  and  noble  fervor  that  was  ever  urging 
him  on 'to  make  for  the  best.  He  was  in  an  especial 
manner  the  apostle  of  Christian  culture.  He  loved 
good  books  ;  he  encouraged  others  to  read  good  books  ; 
he  inspired  many  to  write  good  books;  he  freely  dissem- 
inated good  books.  The  Catholic  Publication  Society  is 
a  standing  testimony  to  his  zeal  and  energy  in  the  cause 
of  good  Catholic  reading.  It  was  under  his  fostering 
hand  that  The  Catholic  World  grew  up  and  flourished. 
His  own  writings  abound  in  that  strong  common  sense  so 
dear  to  the  American  mind.  V/ho  can  number  the  souls 
that,  weary  and  parcl;ed  in  traversing  the  arid  sands  of 
philosophic  speculation,  have  stopped  and  drunk  of  the 
pure  crystal  waters  of  clear,  good  sense  flowing  from  his 


130  Books  and  Reading. 

refreshing  volumes,  and,  strengthened,  have  resumed 
their  journey  with  a  new-founded  hope  that  has  cheered 
them  on  to  a  home  and  a  resting-place  in  the  Church  of 
God  ?  He  has  passed  from  amongst  us,  but  his  spirit  still 
lives  in  devoted  disciples  of  his,  who  are  carrying  on  his 
work  as  he  would  have  it  carried  on,  in  the  spirit  of 
charity  for  man,  zeal  for  souls,  and  an  abiding  trust  in 
the  practical  good  sense  of  the  American  people. 

3.  And  there  has  recently  fallen  another  whose  life  was 
an  apostolate  sacrificed  for  the  Catholic  press.  He  fell 
in  the  breach  ;  fell  fighting  till  summoned  by  the  death- 
knell  ;  fell  with  aspirations  unrealized,  plans  and  projects 
unachieved  ;  fell  in  the  noon-day  of  his  life,  feeling  that 
while  he  had  done  something  he  had  left  much  more 
undone.  Only  the  friends  that  knew  him  intimately  and 
were  favored  with  an  insight  into  his  noble  aspirations 
and  the  high  ideal  he  always  placed  before  himself,  are  in 
position  to  weigh  and  measure  the  solid  worth  of  Com- 
mendatore  Patrick  Valentine  Hickey.  *  He  also  was  one 
of  the  chosen  few  who  labored  in  the  interest  of  Catholic 
literature  and  Catholic  journalism  with  a  singleness  of 
purpose  and  in  a  spirit  of  self-denial  and  self-devoted- 
ness  truly  heroic.  Moderate  in  his  views,  unbending  in 
his  principles,  charitable  in  his  judgments,  he  was  a 
ripe  scholar,  versed  in  theology,  a  clever  writer,  a  fair- 
minded  and  honorable  opponent  in  controversy.  He 
might  have  been  imposed  on  at  times  ;  at  times  he  might 

»  Died,  Feb.  2t,   888,  aet.  43. 


Monsignor  Corcoran,  131 

have  seriously  blundered  ;  he  was  not  more  than  man  ; 
but  he  never  knowingly  did  injustice  to  his  fellow- 
man.  Rarely  was  his  paper  sullied  with  personal  abuse. 
He  always  bore  the  respect  and  esteem  of  the  non- 
Catholic  press.  Be  his  memory  cherished  amongst  us  as 
the  Bayard  of  Catholic  journalism. 

Let  us  not  forget  or  ignore  such  merit  and  such  de- 
votedness.  Let  us  love  the  literature  for  which  such 
noble  souls  sacrificed  themselves.  Let  us  cultivate  it, 
each  according  to  his  capacity;  let  us  patronize  it,  each 
according  to  his  means. 

IX. 

On  the  eve  of  sending  out  this  lecture  in  its  permanent 
form  another  great  luminary  in  the  world  of  Catholic  let- 
ters passed  from  earth.  The  Right  Reverend  Monsignor 
James  A.  Corcoran  died.*  His  loss  is  irreparable.  Among 
the  American  priesthood  he  towered  peerless.  His  learn- 
ing was  prodigious.  He  was  a  lifelong  student,  ever  ab- 
sorbing knowledge.  He  was  deeply  read  in  oriental  litera- 
ture; he  was  equally  at  home  in  the  sacred  and  profane 
literatures  of  nearly  every  nation  in  mediaeval  and  modern 
Europe;  he  was  unrivaled  asaLatinistand  wrote  the  Latin 
language  with  classic  grace  and  purity  of  expression;  his 
knowledge  of  books  and  authors  extended  to  the  smallest 
details  and  the  most  obscure  writers;  he  was  possessed  of 
rare  critical  acumen;  his  erudition  was  profound,  but  he 

♦  Died,  July  16,  1889,  act.  69. 


13^  Books  and  Reading. 

never  permitted  it  to  conceal  from  him  the  real  worth 
of  an  opinion.  Authorities  had  in  his  judgment  the 
weight  of  their  intrinsic  merit,  and  neither  more  nor 
less.  He  had  rare  tact  in  brushing  aside  as  so  many 
cobwebs  traditional  opinions  and  traditional  quotations, 
and  going  straight  to  the  heart  of  his  subject,  weigh- 
ing and  measuring  it  in  the  light  of  his  trained  intel- 
lect. In  all  matters  of  human  knowledge  he  considered 
facts  and  principles  above  mere  assertions,  how  respect- 
able soever  might  be  the  authority  from  whom  they  pro- 
ceeded. He  was  intolerant  of  all  dogmatism,  be  it  the 
dogmatism  of  the  theologian  who  would  have  men  more 
orthodox  than  the  Church,  or  be  it  the  dogmatism  of  the 
scientist  who  would  obtrude  his  crude  fancies  as  proven 
propositions. 

My  acquaintance  v/ith  Mgr.  Corcoran  began  at  the  time 
that  he  assumed  the  editorship  of  The  American  Catho- 
lic Quarterly  Review.  The  acquaintance  soon  ripened  in- 
to friendship,  and  to  the  hour  of  his  death  that  friend- 
ship grew  more  cordial  and  more  steadfast.  He  honored 
me  with  an  amount  of  confidence,  aiid  treated  with  a 
degree  of  deference  the  judgments  and  opinions  that  I 
had  formed  in  my  own  line  of  study  and  thought,  which 
I  can  account  for  only  by  his  great  humility,  but  which 
have  been  to  me,  and  which  shall  continue  to  be  an  in- 
centive so  to  labor  as  to  render  myself  less  unworthy  of 
the  abiding  trust  of  such  an  eminent  scholar.  Indeed, 
when  one  has  learned  to  distinguish  the  v/ould-be  friend 


Monsignor  Corcoran.  133 

from  the  real  friend,  one  may  well  rank  the  friendship  of 
James  A.  Corcoran  among  the  blessings  for  which  one 
should  daily  thank  God.  He  has  passed  away,  but  like  a 
sweet  perfume  his  memory  remains  to  cheer  and  to  refresh. 
Looking  into  the  clear  crystalline  depths  of  his  beau- 
tiful soul,  methinks  I  behold  it  in  all  its  greatness.  Me- 
thinks  I  can  still  see  the  honest  indignation  with  which 
that  soul  would  be  stirred  by  the  very  shadow  of  sham 
or  pretence.  He  had  an  abiding  hatred  for  dishonesty, 
be  its  form  what  it  may.  He  could  but  ill  disguise  his 
loathing  of  him  with  the  two  faces,  or  of  him  of  the 
fawning  ways,  or  of  the  cowardly  character  devoid  of 
the  courage  of  his  convictions.  I  read  therein  the  per- 
fect manhood  scorning  all  pettiness  and  subterfuge  and 
strong  and  fearless  in  right-doing.  I  read  the  charming 
simplicity  of  the  character  without  wrinkle  and  without 
guile, — just,  upright,  straightforward,  charitable,  I  read 
the  profound  humility  that  led  him  all  through  life  to 
shun  honors,  seek  retirement,  and  find  happiness  in  doing 
God's  will  in  the  most  lowly  occupations.  I  read  that 
wisdom  from  above  which  made  clear  to  him  that  in  the 
service  of  God  even  the  least  position  is  ennobling.  I 
read  the  simple  faith  that  accepted  every  jot  and  tittle 
of  the  teachings  of  the  Church  with  all  the  docility  of  the 
artless  child.  And  the  love  the  child  bears  the  mother 
only  partially  measures  the  love  he  bore  the  Church  and 
all  things  pertaining  to  the  Church — the  language  of  her 
ritual,  her  ceremonies,  her  devotions,  her  practices,  her 


1 34  Books  and  Reading. 


doctrines.  He  loved  them  all  with  a  tenderness  and  a 
reverence  that  were  touching.  This  love  led  him  to  re- 
sent any  insult  offered  to  her  teachings  and  her  practices 
with  all  the  energy  of  his  great  soul.  It  wounded  his 
sensitive  nature  far  more  than  could  any  personal  griev- 
ance. In  controversy  he  was  a  hard  hitter,  but  he  never 
forgot  the  courtesy  due  to  an  opponent;  he  could  not  be 
provoked  by  personalities  the  most  bitter  and  malicious 
into  an  uncharitable  expression.  I  have  named  but  a 
tithe  of  the  many  virtues  that  I  read  in  that  beautiful 
soul. 

Years  were  pressing  upon  him,  and  ill-health  was 
compassing  him* round,  but  the  joyousness  of  his  spirits 
rose  above  his  sufferings  and  infirmities,  and  his  heart 
grew  young  with  ad^fancing  age.  He  was  the  most 
genial  of  companions  even  as  he  was  the  staunchest  of 
friends;  he  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  I  now 
■see  the  quiet  humor  dimple  his  amiable  face  as  he  told  a 
good  story,  or  listened  to  a  clever  joke,  even  when  made 
at  his  own  expense.  There  was  no  moroseness  in  his 
nature;  there  was  no  gall  in  his  disposition.  Broad  in 
his  views,  large-hearted  in  his  charity,  modest  as  he  was 
learned,  he  was  among  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the 
American  priesthood,  always  a  pillar  and  mainstay  of  the 
American  hierarchy. 

As  editor  of  a  quarterly  which  directed  and  influenced 
the  readings  of  many,  Monsignor  Corcoran  is  entitled  to 
a  distinguished  place  in  any  discourse  treating  of  books. 


Conclusion.  1 3  5 


He  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  apostolate  of  the  press. 
He  loved  the  good  book  and  recommended  it  to  those 
under  his  personal  guidance  and  influence.  But  the 
modern  books  that  met  with  his  commendation  were  few 
and  far  between.  He  preferred  to  go  back  to  the  old 
masters  in  literature,  the  tried  ones  who  had  been  weighed 
and  had  not  been  found  wanting.  These  were  the  favor- 
ites with  whom  he  loved  to  commune.  His  acquaintance 
with  Italian  literature  was  especially  intimate.  Even  in 
Rome  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  Dante 
scholars  living.  He  saw  in  the  avocation  of  the  bookseller 
great  opportunities  for  doing  good,  and  he  once  remarked 
to  him  who  pens  these  lines,  that  if  he  were  not  a  priest 
he  would  follow  that  calling,  and  would  devote  all  his 
energy  to  the  propagation  of  good  reading.  Though  an 
elegant  and  forcible  writer,  he  has  left  little  from  his  pen 
that  will  live  in  literature;  his  name  will  pass  down  the 
corridors  of  time,  a  wholesome  tradition  of  great  learn- 
ing and  solid  piety.  When  shall  we  look  upon  his  like 
again  ? — 

X. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  add  that  a  great  responsibility 
rests  on  us  in  regard  to  our  reading,  and  we  cannot 
shirk  that  responsibility.  Ours  is  the  duty  to  develop 
and  make  perfect  our  whole  nature;  therefore  must  we 
look  to  our  intellectual  growth  and  progress.  Books  are 
the  great  means  by  which  we  are  expected  to  achieve 


136  Books  and  Reading. 

this.  They  are  the  reflectors  by  which  the  light  of 
God's  truth  is  flashed  into  the  mind.  That  light  runs 
through  all  books;  but  self,  and  passion,  and  prejudice 
are  so  many  absorbents,  leaving  but  a  few  rays  to  glim- 
mer through  the  darkness.  Let  us  select  those  giving 
out  the  truth  most  clearly  and  convincingly;  they  will 
supply  us  with  the  needed  light  and  warmth — so  far  as 
human  agencies  can  supply  us — to  walk  in  the  path  of 
right  and  duty. 

Let  your  readings  be  such  as  shall  imbue  you  with  ex- 
alted ideals  of  manhood  and  of  womanhood.  Eschew 
those  authors  who  would  destroy  the  roseate  hues  of 
the  morning  of  life,  and  leave  the  soul  to  be  consumed 
in  the  comtemplation  of  a  parched  and  arid  waste  of 
human  nature,  from  which  all  good  has  been  extracted 
and  upon  which  the  dews  of  heaven  no  longer  fall  to 
freshen  the  flowers  of  virtue;  for  according  to  these 
men,  there  is  neither  virtue,  nor  a  heaven,  nor  a  God. 
It  brings  no  good,  and  may  work  great  injury  to  young 
people,  to  wade  through  the  miry  pages  of  a  Zola,  to 
learn  from  an  Ibsen  the  disenchantments  of  life's  most 
sacred  relations,  or  to  sicken  over  the  stench  proceeding 
from  the  ulcerous  sores  a  Tolstoi  has  been  probing  and 
laying  open  to  the  public  gaze.  These  men  call  them- 
selves social  physicians.  But  the  respectable  physician 
confines  his  lectures  and  experiments  to  the  dissecting 
room,  where  they  are  understood  and  appreciated.  It  is 
only  your  quack  who  goes  into  the  public  shambles,  and 


Books  and  Reading.       ,  137 

under  pretence  of  enlightening  men,  spreads  the  germs 
of  disease  among  those  who  are  attracted  around  the 
putrid  corpse  he  would  openly  dissect.  What  else  are 
those  men? — They  tell  us  with  Ibsen  that  "all  the 
spiritual  well-springs  of  our  life  are  poisoned,  and  our 
whole  civic  society  rests  upon  a  soil  infected  with  the 
pestilence  of  lies."  Not  so,  my  friends.  Faith,  and 
Hope,  and,  greater  than  all,  the  Love  of  God  and  of  our 
neighbor,  are  life-giving  fountains  of  spiritual  life  still 
flowing  in  abundance.  Christian  manhood  and  Christian 
womanhood  the  world  over  draw  healing  waters  from 
these  Divine  sources.  The  literature  that  brings  there- 
from strength  and  firm  resolve  to  the  soul  to  rise  higher 
and  higher  into  the  more  perfect  life,  is  the  wholesome 
literature  which  our  young  people  should  cultivate. 


The  End. 


Index 


Adlard,  George,  110,  note. 

Ajrnosticism,5l. 

Allibone,  Dictionary  of  AuUiors,  122, 
note. 

American  Catholic  Quarterly  Re- 
vieio,  45. 

Andreinl,  124. 

Angelico,  Fra,  101. 

Aquinas,  St.  Thomas,  89,  62. 

Ariosto,  71. 

Aristotle,  48. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  Esmys  in  Criti- 
cism, 56. 

Attention,  how  to  cultivate,  18-24. 

Augustine,  St.,  8. 

A  vt  Maria,  45. 


B 


Balfour,  Philosophical  Doubt,  60. 

Balmes,  Fundamental  PhilosoijUy, 
59. 

Becket,  the,  of  Tennyson  and  Aubrey 
de  Vere,  110. 

Beowulf,  64. 

Blake,  Mrs.  Mary  E.,  55. 

Books,  friendship  of,  8;  that  have 
made  me,  25,  note ;  labor  of  book- 
making.  17;  that  one  outgrows,  31 ; 
the  indispensable  books  in  every 
Oatholic  collection,  43,  note ;  thrill- 
ing power  of,  65. 

Boswell,  Life  of  Johnson,  46. 

Brain-work,  21. 

Bridgett,  Father,  67,  note. 

Bridge  of  Sighs,  64. 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  Cry  of 
the  Children,  64. 

Browning,  Robert,  50,  58,  86-108,  120. 
his  methods,  88.  Puritanism,  101, 
Limitations,  101.  Easter  Day,  90. 
Fifine  at  the  Fair,  90.  Liquefac- 
tion of  the  blood  of  St.  Januarius, 


92.  TJie  Statue  and  the  Bust,  92. 
Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  93.  Bah- 
bi  Ben  Ezra,  94.  Apparent  Fail- 
ure, 94.  ChrMmas  Eve,  96.  Pw- 
gah-Sights,  96.  A  Death  in  the 
Desert,  97.  Ferishtah's  Fancies, 
97.  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  100. 
Karshl<h  103, 105, 107.  The  Bishop 
orders  his  Tomb,  A  Soul's  Tragedy, 
Colomhe's  Birthday,  102.  The  Good 
News  from  Ghent,  Hei^ce  Riel, 
In  a  Gondola,  Evelf/n  Hope,  103. 

Brownson,  Henry  F.,  59. 

Bulwer  Lytton,  My  Novel,  52.  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii,  54. 

Bunyan,  John,  The  Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress, 124. 

Burke.  Edmund,  9.  Reflections  on 
the  Revolution  i)i  France,  16,  71. 

Burnand,  Mr.,  editor  of  Punch,  11. 

Burnham,  W.  H.,  21,  note. 

Burns,  Bannockburn,  68. 

Butler,  Alban,  122.  Lives  of  the 
Saints,  8. 

Byron,  67,  70,83. 


Caedmon,  124, 

Campbell,    Thomas,    The    Exile    of 

Erin,  70. 
Carlyle.  33, 47. 

Carthenay,  Jean  de,  124,  note. 
Cashel-Hoey.  Mrs.,  55. 
Catholic  Heritage,  .Our,  36-37. 
Catholic  Literature  121. 
Catholic  Magazines,  The,  45, 
Catholic  Novel,  The,  54-.55. 
Catholic  World,  The,  129. 
Cervantes,  Don  Quixote,  52. 
Challoner,  Bishop.  Catholic  Christian 

Instructed,  122. 
Chapman,  George.   A  Critical  Essay, 

88 
Chiide  Harold,  71. 
Clarke,  Father  Richard,  S.  J.,  59. 


I40 


Index. 


Conway,  Katherine,  55. 

Cook,  A.  S.,  66. 

Corcoran,  Tbe  Right  Reverend  Mon- 

signor  James  A.,  26,  131-135. 
Cow  per,  69. 

Criticism  and  Philosophy,  58-63. 
Crabbe,  Tti/cs  o/  Ihe,  Hall,  71. 
Crawford,  Marion,  55. 


Globerti,  126,  note- 

Goethe,  48,  63. 

Goldsmith,  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield 

40. 
Gosse,  Edmund,  69. 
Gordon,  General,  65. 
Griffin,  Gerald,  69. 
G  uiney,  Louise  Imogen,  55. 


H 


Daniel,  Book  of,  37. 

Dante,  Divina  Commedia,  IG,  23,  25, 

^8,  67,  71,  120. 
Davis,  Thomas.  60,  74. 
Deguileville.  Guilaume  de,  07. 
Demosthenes,  10. 
Desultory  reading,  9. 
Dickens,  fickwich  Papent,  11. 
Digby,  Kenelm,  32 ores  Catholici,  124, 

125,  note. 
Dobson,  Austin,  69. 
Donnelly,  Eleanor  C,  55. 
Dorsey.  Mrs.  Hanson,  55. 


Egan,  Maurice  Francis,  55. 

Eliot,  George,  16, 39.    Daniel  Deron- 

da,  16,  39.    Adam  Bede,  39.    ITie 

Mill  on  the  F?08.«,  41. 
Elsdale,  Henry,  Studies  in  the  Idi'lls, 

115. 
English  Literature  rooted  inCathoUc 

Soil,  121-12.'3. 
Ennius,  10. 
Epictetus,  33. 
Esdras,  37. 


Harper,  Father,  59. 
Hay,  Bishop,  The  Pious  Christian, 
The  J )evi>ut  Christian,  The  Sincert 

Christian,  122. 
Hecker,  Father,  128-130. 
Henley,  Mr.  W.  E.,  56. 
Hettinger,  Notxiral  Religion.  59. 
Hickey,  Patrick  Valentine,  130. 
History,  proper  study  of,  12. 
Holinshed,  Chronicle,  15. 
Hood,  humor  of,   11.     Song  of  the 

Shirt,  64. 
Hornihold,  Bishop,  122. 
Howells,  W.  D.,53 
Hugo.  Victor,  Nobc  Dame  de  Paris, 

27-28. 
Husenheth,  Dr.,  12r?. 
Hutton,  llichiird  Holt,  r,G.    Essays,  88. 
Huxley,  Piofessor.  r)9. 
Hymns  of  the  riuuch,  60. 
Hypnotism,  2'.). 


Ibsen,  136. 
Ignatius,  St.,  8. 


Faber,  Father,  Hymns,  67. 

Faith,  the  Light  of,  38. 

Fichte,  44,  92. 

Fin  lay.  Father,  00. 

Fox,  Caroline,  74. 

Francesca,  Story  of  Ida,  100. 

Fronde,  James  Anthouv,  !^'9.    Henry 

VIII.,  Mary  Stniat,  Queeu  Elizabeth, 

30. 
FuUerton,  Lady  Goorgiana,  55. 


Johnson,  Dr.,  32,  46. 
Johnston,  Richard  Malcolm,  55. 


Kant,  23,  01. 

Kempis,  Thomas  a,  41,  48.    Imitatian 

of  Christ.  8. 
Keble,  Lyra  Innocentium,  67. 


C 


Gladstone.  20. 
Gibber   16. 


LallaRookh,68. 

Lambert,  Father,  Notes  on  litgetsoU, 

60. 
Laodamid,  73. 


Index. 


M 


Leo  XIII.,  Letter  to  Cards,  de  Liica, 
PItra,  and  Hergenroether,  30.  En- 
cyclical Mt&rni  Patris,  SO. 

I^opardi,  84. 

Lilly,  W.  S.,  Oil  RiaJitand  Wrong,  59. 

Llppi.  Fra  Lippo,  101. 

Longfellow,  04. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  56,  C5. 

Lydgate,  John,  134,  note. 


M 

Mrthinogion,  ll-t. 

M;u-aiilay.  13. 

Madise,  103. 

Maiming,  Cardinal,  G2. 

Manzoni,  I  Promessi  Sposi,  52. 

ir-i>\eT»oise,  68. 

Maitin,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Gilbert,  55. 

Memory,  25-27. 

Meredith.  George,  Diana  of  the  Cross- 

vja  >/s,  50. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  74. 
MiUst,  TJieAugdrw^Si. 
Milner,  Bishop,  End  of  Controvergy- 

Milton.  9,  15.    Paradise  Lost,  12.1. 

Srivart,  Philosophical  Catccldam,  59. 

Mohl.  Madame.  23. 

Montaigne,  Essai-s.  15. 

Monthlies,  The  Messenger  of  the 
Sacred  Heart,  Donohue's  Maga- 
zine, 46. 

Moore,  Melodies,  68. 

Morley,  Mr.  Henry.  120. 

Morris.  William,  69. 

Mudie  Library,  49. 

Mulholland,  Rosa,  55. 


Neri,  St.  Philip,  101. 

Newman,  Cardinal,  9.  Emiy  on  Inspi- 
ration, 17.  Loss  and  Oain,  41. 
Apologia,  47,  61.  Qrammar  of 
Assent,  38,  GO.  CalUda,  54.  Oxford 
University  Sermons,  Development 
of  Doctrine,  Essays  on  Miracles,  60. 
Present  Position  of  Catholics  in 
Rngland,  100.  Dream  of  Oerontius, 
67. 

Newton,  29. 

Nlebuhr,  14. 

Novel-Reading,  49-54.  Ben  Hur,  49. 
Lorna  Doone,  Dion  aJid  the  Syb- 
ils, 50. 


O'ConneU,  68. 
O'Hagan,  Justice,  74. 
O'Meara.  Kathleen,  55. 
O'Neil,  Miss.  53 
O'Reilly.  John  Boyle,  55. 
Orr,  Mrs.,  IX). 
Our  Lady's  Dowry.  67. 
Ozanam,  Frederic :    His  Life  and  his 
Works,  46,  note. 


Pater,  Mr.  Walter.  A  pprcciations,  58. 

On  Wordsworth,  7':. 
Patniore,   C-iventry.     Angel   in   the 

lutatie,  69. 
Pattjson,  Mark.  47. 
Payne,  John  Howard,  70. 
Perseverance  in  Reading.  40-42. 
Philosophy,  58  63. 
Philosophy  of  Literature,  114,  note. 
Plato,  48,  63. 
Poe,  Edgar  Allen,  07. 
Poet,  choice  of,  09. 
Poetry  and  Culture.  64-7'2. 
Poets'  appreciation  of  eminent  authors, 

70. 
Pollock,  Course  of  Time,  84. 
Power  of  Song  and  of  National  airs,  68. 
Proctor,  Adelaide,  64. 


Quatrcfages,  59. 


R 


Pteed,  William  B.,  On  Thackeray  and 
the  Catholic  Church,  52. 

Reid,  Christian.  55. 

Repplier,  Agnes,  55. 

Rheims-Douay  Bible,  122. 

Rhuys.  Professor,  114. 

Rossettis,  the,  09. 

Rousseau,  84. 

Ruskin:  The  Eagle's  Nest,  9.  The 
Queen  of  the  Air,  33.  Modern 
Painters,  102.    Estimate  of,  33. 

S 

Sadlier,  Mrs.,  .55, 
Sainte-Beuve  56. 
Scott,  Walter,  50.    Lady  of  the  Lake, 

67. 
Shakspere,  9, 125.   Hamlet,  i5.  Jidi'us 

Cfesar,  121. 
Shea,  John  Gilniary,  14. 


142 


Index. 


Shelley,  70. 

Sinitli,    Rev.  John  Talbot,   Catholic 

Review,  55. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  58.  Data  of  Ethics, 

59. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  Fairic  Queen,  70. 
Spiritual  reading,  42, 
Stael.  Madame  de.  44. 
Starr,  Eliza  Allen,  58, 
Sled  man,  Edmund  Clarence,  69. 
Stoddard,  Charles  Warren,  55. 
Stockl,  Idlist07y  of  Philosophii,  CO. 
Stonyhurst    Series    of    Philosophical 

text- books,  59. 
Snarez,  59. 

Sullivan,  Mrs.  Margaret  F.,  55. 
Swinburne  on  Browning,  87. 
Sydney,  Sir  Philip,  Defence  of  Poe^i, 


Tennyson.  109-121.  In  Mcworiam, 
63,  113.  Locksley  Ball,  The  May 
Queen,  110.  Maud,  The  Princess, 
111.  Tclyllsof  the  King,  113  Holy 
Grail,  114-117.  Launctlot,  116. 
Northern  Farmer,  118.  Tennyson's 
ideal  of  life.  119. 

Thackeray :  Vanity  Fair.  Penden- 
nis,  Henry  Esmond,  The  Neu- 
come>>,  53. 

The  Fight  at  Finncsburgh,  64. 

Tributes  to  Our  Blessed  Lady,  67. 

Tolstoi,  Anna  Karenina,  52. 136. 

Turner,  33. 


Vatican  Library,  35. 

Vere,  Aubrey  de,  56.    Ma;>  Carols,  6T. 

Essays  ch  iefly  on  Poetry,  56,  73. 
Voltaire,  84. 
Views  a,7id  Reviews,  56. 
Virgil,  u^neid.  16. 
Vondel,  124. 

W 

Ward,  Artemus.  11. 

Wagner,  87, 

Walraesley.  Bishop.  122. 

Watson,  William,  Y2. 

What  to  Read,  43^9. 

Whipple.  56. 

Whittler,  Snow-Bound,  69. 

Widsith,  123. 

Wiseman,  Cardinal.  Fahiola, 5i.  On 
Browning,  108. 

Woodberry,  George  E.,  .^)(>. 

W^ordsworth,  7:^-85,  l!8.  Influence 
upon  Aubrey  de  Vere,  73.  Influence 
upon  Thomas  Davis,  74.  Influence 
upon  John  Stuart  Mill,  74.  The  Ex- 
cursion, 82.  Ecclesiastical  Son- 
nets, 67, 85. 


Zola,  29,  136. 


APPENDIX. 

As  an  Instance  of  the  manner  of  working  up  an  historical  epoch,  I  here  ap- 
pend one  of  the  courses  of  reading  mapped  out  for  the  Reading  Circle  of  the 
Cathedral  Library  of  New  York.  The  course  bears  upon  the  age  of  Hilde- 
brand. 

GENERAL  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

A.       AGE  OF   GREGORY   VII. 


I.  DarraS,  Vol.  III.  p.  103,  sqq. 

II.  Alzog.     Vol.  II.,  p.  477,  sqq. 

III.  Birkha;uskr.     p.  349,  sqq. 

IV.  Broeck.     Vol.  I.,  p.  323.  sqq. 

V.      MOM'ALEMDKRT  :   -"  MOUkS     Of 

the  West,"  B.  VI. 
VI.    MffiHLER— Gams:— Kirchenge- 

schichte,  B.  II. 

French  translation,  by   Belet, 
T.  II. 


VII. 


VIII. 
IX. 


Hergenrcethkr  :  —  "  Church 
and  State." 
De  Maistre:  The  Pope.  Bk.  II, 
Go.sselin: — "  The    Power   of 

the  Pope  In    the    Middle 

Ages. " 


B.      SPECIAL   HISTORY   OP  EPOCH. 


I. 

III. 


III. 


BowDEN:    Life  of  Gregory  VII. 
Voigt:     Life  of   Gregory  VII. 
French  translation,  by  Jager. 
Archbishop  Spalding:     Mis- 
cellanea.   VoL  I.,  p.  156. 


IV.  Bishop  England:  Works.  Vol. 

II.,  p.  403. 

V.  Cardinal    Newman:     Refor- 

mation of  the  Eleventh  Cen- 
tury.   Historical  Essays.    Vol. 
IL 
VI.  Jungmann:  Dissertatio,  Vol.  IV. 


G.      FICTION  AND   BIOGRAPHY   DEALING   WITH   CONTEMPORARY   LIFE 
I.    McCabe:     Bertha;   or  the  Pope     IV 


McCabe:     Bertha;   or  the  Pope 
and  the  Emperor. 
II.    Bresciani:    Matilda  of  Canossa. 
III.    George  H.  miles:     Truce  of 
God. 


Life    and   Letters  of  St.  Peter 
Damlan. 
V.    Rule:    Life  of  St.  Anselm. 


MAGAZINE  ARTICLES. 


St.  Gregory  VII.    The  Month.    Vol. 

XXIII.,  p.  93-347-427;  Vol. 

XXIV.,    p.  370-502;    Vol. 

XXV..  p    104-235-379. 
St.  Gregory  VII.      U.    S.    Catholic 

Magazine,  Vol.  II.,  p.  129. 
ST.  Gregory  vii  and  Hm  age.  u.  s. 

Catholic     Magazine,    Vol. 

IV.,  p.  51.3. 
St.  Gregory  vii.  and  Sylvester  II. 

Dublin  Review,  Vol.  IV., 

p.  289. 

In  addition  to  these,  we  refer  the  reader  to  Cantu's  History  of  Italy,  the  En- 
cyclopaedia Britannlca,  and  books  of  travel  in  Italy. 


St.  Gregory  VII.  at  Canossa.  Dub- 
Un  Review.  Vol  LXIII., 
p.  107. 

St.  Gregory  vii.  Voigt's  Charac- 
ter of.  —  U.  S.  Catholic 
Magazine,  Vol.  VII.,  p.  25G. 

St.  Gregory  Vll.  Work  of—.  The 
Turning  Point  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  Contemporary 
Review,  Art.  by  W.  S.  Lillv. 

St.  Gregory  VII.    Vol.  XLII.,  p.  46- 


TLbc  Catbebral  XibrariP. 

Special  Coureee  of  IReabing* 


I.  Course  of  Reading  on  "  The  Public  School  Contro- 
versy "  in  the  United  States, 

Prepared  expressly  for  the  Cathedral  Library^  by  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Bernard  McQuaid,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Rochester. 


1.  History  of  the  Public  School  Society 

of  New  York  City,  Bowne. 

2.  Coiiinioa  Schools  of  New  York  State, 

Itandall,  Supt.  of  Public  Instruc- 
tion. 

3.  The  Bible  in  the  Public  Schools  :— 

Case  of  the  Cincinnati  Board  of 
Education. 

4.  Archbishop  Hughes's  Controversies 

oa   the  Public  Schools  and  the 


rights  of  Catholics. 
Z.  Montgomery's  book  on  Parental 

Rights,  etc. 
Father  Miiller's   book   on    Public 

School  Education. 
The  Keane-Mead  Controversy,  Bar- 

deen. 
Respective  Rights  of  Parents  and 

the  State,  Rev.  Francis  Conway, 

8.  J. 


[In  addition  to  the  above,  the  Bishop's  own  contributions  on  thesubject  should 
be  consulted;  vid.  Poole's  Index.  Cardinal  Manning's  papers  in  the  Collec- 
tion called  "National  Education,"  will  be  found  very  valuable.  Dr.  Walsli's 
"  Statement  of  the  Grievances  of  the  Irish  Catholics  "  will  throw  much  light  on 
our  own  educational  question. 

The  Director  of  the  Cathedral  Library.] 

II.  Course  of  Reading  on  Astronomy, 

Prepared  expressly  for  the   Cathedral  Library  by  the  Rn\ 
G.  Searle,  C.  S.  P. 


Astronomy,  New  and  Old,  Rev.  Martin 

S.  Breunan,  Catholic  Pub.  So.  Co., 

18^9. 
Fourteen  Weeks  in  Astronomy. 
Newcome's  Popular  Astronomy. 
Searle's  Outlines  of  Astronomy,  Ginn 

&Co. 
Young's  General  Astronomy,  Ginn  & 

Co. 
Langley's  New  Astronomy,  Tickuor  & 

Co.,  Boston. 
Lockyer's    Elementary    Astronomy, 

(Macmillan  or  Appleton). 
Starland,  by  Ball,  Cassell  &  Co. 


Grant's  History  of  Physical  Astron- 
omy. 

Astronomy  in  the  Nineteenth  Century, 
(E.  M.  Gierke). 

Observational  Astronomy,  Miss  Bow- 
en. 

Proctors  Works  generally  (See  Ca- 
tliedral  Catalogue. 

Astronomy  with  an  Opera  Glass,  Ter- 
riss. 

The  Starry  Heavens,Guillemln  (Trans- 
lation). 

Secchi's  great  work  on  the  Sun. 

The  Story  of  the  Stars,  E.  M.  Gierke. 
Longmans. 


146 


SPECIAL  COURSES  OF  READING. 


III.  Course  of  Reading  on  Oratory, 

Prepared  expressly  for  the  Cathedral  Library,   by  the  Rev. 
C.  E.  lVood??ian,  C.  S.  P. 


Genung,  "Practical  Rhetoric." 
"  Practical  Analysis." 
Hart,  "  Composition  and  Rhetoric." 
Hepburn,  "  Manual  of  Rhetoric." 
Apthorp,  ''  Grammar  of  Elocution," 
Bautain,  "  Art  of  Extempore  Speak- 
ing." 
Bell,  "  Principles  of  Speech  and  Elo- 
cution." 
Cobb,  "Principles  of  Elocution." 
Fowler,  "Analysis  of  Drainatie  and 
Oratorical  Expression." 


Graham,  "  Reasonable  Elocution." 
Edgerly,    "■  Lessons  in  Extemporane- 
ous Speaking." 
Pinkley,  "'  Essentials  of  Elocution." 
Ross,  "  Voice  Culture  and  Elocution. " 
Waddy,   "  Eleiuents   of   Composition 

and  Rhetoric.'" 
Tompkins,  "  Science  of  Discourse." 
Brown,  "  Philoso|)liy  of  Expression.'* 
Delsarte,  "  System  of  Dramatic  Ex- 
pression." 
Legouv^  on  the  Art  of  Reading. 


lY.  Course  of  Reading  on  Music, 

Prepared  expressly  for  the   Cathedral  Library,  by    William 
Pecher. 


J.  Robert  Schumann's  Early  Letters, 
George  Bell  &  Sous,  Londou. 

2.  Gnest,  (Grerman  Composers. 

"       Italian    and    French    Com- 
posers. 

"       Singers 

"       Second  Series. 

"       Violinists  and  Pianists. 

3.  Music  Series  by  George  T.  Ferris, 

D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  New  York. 

4.  Standard  Symphonies,  Upton,  A.  C. 

McCIurg  &  Co.,  Chicago. 

5.  Mendelssohn's  Letters  from  Italy. 

1833-1847. 


Life  of  Mendelssohn,  Leypoldt  «& 
Holt,  New  York. 

6.  Life  of  Beethoven,  Thayer. 

"     "  Mozart,  John. 
"     "  Handel. 
"     "  Bach. 
"     "  Haydn. 

7.  History  of  Music,  Ritter. 

8.  Lobe,  Catechism  of  Music,  G.  Schir- 

mer. 

9.  Moene's   Encyclopedia  of  Music, 

Ditson  &  Co. 
to.  Life  of  Chopin,  Liszt,  Leypoldt  & 
Holt,  New  York. 


Y.  Course  of  Reading  on  Sacred  Scripture. 

Prepared  expressly  for  the  Cathedral  Library,  by  Dr.  Hyvernaty 
of  the  Catholic  University. 


Geikie,  Hours  with  the  Bible,  6  vols. 
Pott.  New  York.  1888. 

James  Time,  The  Kingdom  of  all  Is- 
rael, Nisbet  &  Co.,  London,  1883. 

Charles  Elliott,  Old  Testament  Proph- 
ecy, Armstrong.  New  York,  1889. 

Thomson,  The  Land  and  the  Book, 
3  vols.    Harper  Bros. 


Rawlinson,  Historical  Illustrations  of 
the  Old  Testament,  Henry  Sum- 
mer, Chicago,  1880. 

Men  of  the  Bible,  by  different  Authors; 
distrust  Farrarand  Cheyne  par- 
ticularly ;  Anson,  Randolph  &  Co., 
New  York,  1888-89. 


SPECIAL  COURSES  OF  READING. 


147 


Palmer,  A  History  of  the  Jewish 
Nation.— Society  for  promoting 
Christian  Knowledge,  London, 
1874.  The  same  society  has  pub- 
lished a  series  of  ancient  histories, 
Egypt,  Assyria,  Persia,  etc. 

By-paths  of  Bible  Knowledge,  12  vols., 
published  by  the  Religious  Tract 
Society,  London. 

Stanley,  Sinai  and  Palestine. 

Geerhardus,  Vos.,  The  Mosaic  Origin 
of  the  Pentateuchal  Codes,  Arm- 
strong, New  York,  1886. 

Bartlett,  Sources  of  History  In  the 
Pentateuch,  Anson  &  Randolph, 
New  York. 

Edersheim,  Sketches  of  Jewish  Social 
Life,  Bradley,  Boston. 

Scripture  Manners  and  Customs,  etc. 
Society  for  promoting  Christian 
Knowledge. 

Ayre,  The  Treasury  of  Bible  Knowl- 
edge. 

Scrivener,  A  Plain  Introduction  to  the 
textual  study  of  the  N.  T. 

Andrew,  Life  of  Our  Lord,  Armstrong, 
New  York,  1873. 

Coleridge,  S.  J.,  The  Works  and  Words 
of  Our  Saviour,  Burns  and  Gates, 
London,  1882. 

Coleridge,  S.  J.,  Life  of  Our  Lord. 

Neander,  The  Life  of  Jesus  Christ,  Bell 
and  Daldy,  London,  1871. 

Blaikie,  A  Manual  of  Bible  History, 
Nelson,  London,  1886. 

Westcott,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of 
the  Gospels,  Gould,  P.oston,  1862. 

Geikie,  New  Life  of  Christ  for  Old  and 
Young,  Pott,  New  York,  1888. 

Smith,  Dictionary  of  the  Bible. 

Harper,  The  Bible  and  the  Modern 
Discoveries. 

Geikie,  The  Holy  Land  and  the  Bible, 
Pott,  New  York. 

Fouard,  Viede  N.  S.,  Le  Coffre,  Paris, 


1884.  (English  Translation,  2  vols. 
Longmans,  1891). 

Vigouroux,  La  Bible  et  les  D(^couvertes 
Modernes,  Paris,  Berche  et  Tralin. 

Le  Camus,  Vie  de  Notre  Seigneur. 

Le  Camus,  Notre  Voyage  aux  pays 
Bibliques,  Letouzey  et  Av6. 

Manuel  Biblique  par  Bacquez  et  Vigou- 
roux, Jouley  &  Roger. 

Robinson,  Biblical  Researches  in  Pal- 
estine, Mount  Sinai,  and  Arabia 
Petraea,  Boston,  1&41.    3  vols. 

Stanley,  Sinai  and  Palestine.  2  vols. 
New  York,  1888. 

Burton  and  Drake,  Syria  unexplored. 
2  vols.    London,  1872. 

Geikie,  Hours  with  the  Bible.  6  vols. 
New  York,  Pott  &  Co. 

Geikie,  The  Holy  Land. 

Conder,  Hand-book  to  the  Bible. 

Lynch,  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea  (Ex- 
pedition to).    Phila.,  1841. 

Smith,  G.,  Chaldaean  account  of  Gene- 
Wilkinson,  Ancient  Egyptians. 

Rawlinson,  The  Ancient  Monarchies. 
5  vols. 

Conder,  Palestine,  New  York,  Dodd  & 
Mead. 

Dawson,  Modern  Science  in  Bible 
Lands,  New  York,  Harper,  1889. 

Lenormant  (Francois),  Histoire  An- 
cienne  de  L'Orient.  6  vols.,  4to. 
Ninth  edit.,  Paris. 

Selah  Merrill.  East  of  the  Jordan, 
London,  Bentley,  1881. 

Bacquez  et  Vigouroux,  Manuel  Bib- 
lique. 4  vols. 

Trochon,  Introduction  generale  a  la 
Sainte  Bible.  2  vols.  8vo.  Paris, 
Lethielleux,  1887. 

Smith's  Dictionary  of  the  Bible. 

Mac  Evilly,  Commentaries. 

Bishop  Lightfoot,  Commentaries  on 
the  Epistles. 


[In  addition  to  above :  Dixon's  Introduction,  2  vols ;  McDevitt's  Introduction, 
1  vol. ;  the  Roman  Breviary,  translated  by  the  Marquis  of  Bute  ;  Reeve's  Bible 
History  ;  Spalding's  History  of  the  Church  of  God ;  the  Oxford  Translations  of 
Maldonatus,  Cornelius  a  Lapide,  a  Piconio,  and  the  Fathers  generally. 

In  French,  La  Sainte  Bible  is  an  excellent  modern  and  complete  commentary. 

Caution.— The  Books  by  Protestant  Authors  are  not  recommended  unre- 
servedly, but  must  be  read  with  great  caution.  This  course  Is  prepared  for 
those  who  cannot  read  Latin, 

FOR  Children.— Before  Our  Lord  Came,  by  Lady  Kerr ;  Bible  Stories  for  the 
young ;  Life  of  Our  Lord  for  Children,  T.  Murphy. 

The  Director  of  the  Cathedral  Library.] 


148 


SPECIAL    COURSES   OF    READING, 


YI.  Course  of  Reading  on  "  The  Fine  Arts". 

Prepared  expressly  for  the  Cathedral  Library ^  by  Miss  Eliza 
Allen  Starr, 


Vasari's  Lives  of  the  Painters,  5  vols. 
Liibke's  History  of  Sculpture,  2  vols. 
Kugler's    Handbook    of     Painting, 

4  vols. 
Mrs.  Jameson's  Sacred  and  Legend- 
ary Art.  2  vols. 
"  "       Legends  of    the  Ma- 

donna, 1  vol. 
'*  "       Legends  of  the  Mon- 

astic Orders,  1  vol. 
"  "       History  of  Our  Lord, 

continued  by  Lord 
Eastlake,  2  vols. 
L'Art  Chretien,  A.  F.  Rio,  4  vols. 
Epilogue  a  L'Art  Chretien,  2  vols. 
Essays  on  Art,  by  Montalembert : 
Vandalism  in  France. 
De  la  Peinture  Chr^tienne  en  Italic, 
avec  Tableau  Chronologique  des 


Ecoles  Catholiques  de  Peinture  en 

Italic. 

De  I'Etat  actuelle  de  TArt  R^li- 

gieux  en  France. 

De  1' Attitude  actuelle  du   Van- 

dalisme  eu  France. 

Observations  sur  les  Edifices  R(?li- 

gieux. 

Pour  la  Restauration  de  la  Cath^- 

drale  de  Paris. 

Sur  le  Vandalisme  dans  les  tra- 

vaux  d'Art. 

L'  Art  et  les  Moines. 
Ruskin's  "  Mornings  in  Florence," 
Ruskin's  "  Elements  of  Drawing." 
Ruskin's  "  Seven  Lamps  of  Architec- 
ture." 
Life    of    Friedrich   Overbeck.     Miss 

Margaret  Ho  Witt. 


VI 1 1  Course  of  Reading  on  Christian  Evidences. 

Prepared  expressly  for  the   Cathedral  Library,  by  the  Very 
Rev,  A,  F.  Hewit,  C.  S,  P, 


Evidences  of  Religion,  Jouin. 
Our  Christian  Heritage,  Cardinal  Gib- 
bons. 
Butler's  *'  Analogy." 
Paley's  "  Evidences." 
Leslie  on  "Deism." 


Lighfoot's  "  Refutation  of  Supernat- 
ural Religion." 

Christian  Evidences,  Dr.  Fisher  of 
Yale  College. 

Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua,  Cardinal  New- 
man. 


[The  Reader  will  also  find  Father  Hewit's  own  Problems  of  the  Age  both 
useful  and  luminous.— Director  of  the  Cathedral  Library.] 


YIII.  Course  of  Reading  in  Philosophy. 

Prepared  expressly  for  the   Cathedral  Library^  by  the  Rev. 
N.  Russo,  S.  J. 


1.  Logic,  Balmes. 

2.  Logic,   (Stonyhurst    series,)    Rev. 

Richard  Clarke,  S.  J. 

3.  Psychology,  Rev.   Michael  Maher, 

S.J. 

4.  First    Principles    of    Knowledge, 

Rev.  John  Rickaby,  S.  J. 

5.  General    Metaphysics,    Rev.  John 

Rickaby,  S.  J. 


6.  Moral  Philosophy  (Ethics  and  Nat- 

ural Law),  Rev.  Joseph  Rickaby, 
S.  J. 

7.  Natural   Theology,   Rev.  Bernard 

Baedder,  S.  J. 

8.  Fundamental  Philosophy,  Balmes. 

9.  Metaphysics  of  the   School,  Rev. 

Father  Harper,  S.  J. 


SPECIAL    COURSES    OF    READING. 


149 


[St.  George  Mivart's  Philosophical  Catechism,  on  the  Oi'iuin  of  Reason, 
on  Truth ;  VV.  S.  Lilly's  liight  and  Wrong;  Wynell-Mayow's  Light  of 
Reason,  Parti;  Stockl's  Historu  of  Philosophy,  tra.m\iited  byFinlay;  the 
Dxibiin  Review,  Brownson's  Woi^hs,  and  American  Catholic  Quarterly, 
passim,  will  be  found  of  exceeding  great  usefulness.  [Dirkctor  of  the 
Cathedral  Library.] 


IX.  A  List  of  Books  for  Spiritual  Reading. 

Prepared  expressly  for  the  Cathedral  Library^  by   the  Rev. 
Wm.  Pardow,  S.  J. 


Life  of  St.  Ignatius,  Genelli. 

Life  of  St.  Thomas,  Vauglian. 

Inner  Life  of  Lacordaire. 

Devout  Life. 

The  Sacred  Scriptures. 

Life  of  Christ. 

Life  of  St.  F.  Xavier. 

Life  of  F.  de  Ravignan. 

Life  of  St.  Philip. 

Life  of  St.  Chas.  Borromeo. 

Life  of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary. 

St.  AloyMUs. 

St.  Franci.s  de  Sales. 

Life  of  St.  Anselm. 

Church  of  the  Fathers.    Newman 

God  Our  Father. 

Life  of  St.  Thomas  a  Becket. 

Cardinal  Ximenes. 

Catholic  Behef. 

Life  of  St.  Alphonsus. 

Life  of  St.  Stanislas, 

All  for  Jesus. 

Life  of  the  Cure  D'Ars. 

Life  of  Blessed  Margaret  Mary. 

The  Christian  Virtues, 

Lacordaire's  Letters. 

Ufe  of  St.  Bernard. 

The 


Eucharist,  by  Gerbet. 
History  of  the  Mass,  O'Brien. 
St.  Matthew's  Gospel. 
Imitation  of  Christ. 
Our  Lady  of  Lourdes.    Lasserre. 
Life  of  Mrs.  Seton. 
Life  of  B,  John  Berchmans, 
Happiness  of  Heaven. 
Sacred  Heart,  Dalgairns. 
Life  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 
Life  of  St.  Bonaveuture. 
Life  of  Blessed  Thomas  More, 
Western  Missionaries. 
Early  Martyrs. 
Short  Sermons  at  Oscott. 
Holy  Communion,  Dalgairns. 
Life  of  Alexis  Clerc. 
liife  of  Bl.  I'eter  Canlsius. 
Life  of  St.  Francis  of  Assist. 
Messenger  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 
Memoir  of  a  Guardian  Angel. 
Memorials  of  the  Blessed. 
Dom  Bosco. 
liife  of  Father  Jogues. 
Golden  Sands. 
Patron  Saints. 
Life  of  St.  Stanislas. 
Paradise  of  God. 


150  SPECIAL  COURSES  OF   READING. 

X.  Readings  in  Tennyson. 

Prepared  for  ihe  Cathedral  Library  Reading  Circle, 

PART  I.-Works. 

Group  A.  Gronp  K. 

The  Idylls  of  the  King.  Charf?e  of  the  Liprht  Brigade. 

The  Lady  of  Shalotte.  The  Ilevenge. 

Sir  Galahad.  «roiip  F. 

Morte  d 'Arthur.  Maud. 

Group  B.  The  Northern  Farmer.    (Old  style 

In  Meinoriam.  and  new  style.) 

The  Two  Voices.  Locksley  Hall. 

The  Vision  of  Sin.  Locksley  Hall  Sixty  Years  After- 

The  Higher  Pantheism.  ward. 

Lucretius.  Mariana. 

Group  C.  Gronp  G. 

Enoch  Arden.  The  Princess. 

Aylmer's  Field.  Group  H. 

The  Miller's  Daughter.  Ilizpah. 

The  Brook.  Group  I. 
Group  I>.                              .  Dream  of  Beautiful  Women, 

St.  Agnes'  Eve.  Haroun-al-Raschid. 

St.  Simeon  Stylites.  Palace  of  Art. 

PART  II. -Critical. 

Reading  and  the  Mind J.  F.  X.  O'  Connor,  S.J. 

The  Victorian  Poets;  Essay  ou  Tennyson E.  C.  Stedman. 

The  Prolegomena  to  In  Memoriam Thomas  Davidson. 

A  Key  to  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam A.  Gatty,  D.D. 

Tennyson's  In  Memoriam John  F.  Genung. 

The  Poetry  of  Tennyson Henry  Van  Dyke. 

Three  Great  Teachers Alexander  H.  Japp,  D.D. 

A  Study  of  the  Works  of  Alfred  Tennyson E.  C.  Tanish. 

Studies  in  the  Idylls Henry  Elsdale. 

Alfred  Tennyson,  His  Life  and  Works Walter  E.  Wace. 

A  Study  of  The  Princess S.  E.  Dawson. 

Lord  Tennyson Henry  J.  Jennings. 

Idylls  of  the  King Cond6  P.  Fallen,  in  the  Catholic  World, 

April,  1885. 
Catholic  Aspects  of  Tennvson J.  C.  Earlc,  Catholic  Worlds 

vol.  VII.,  p.  145.    J.  Healy,  Irish  Monthly,  vol.  VI.,  p.  439. 

Note.— Most  of  the  books  In  these  courses  can  be  had  from  The  Cathedral 
Library,  111  East  50th  St.,  New  York  City.    Office :  460  Madison  Ave.,  N.  Y. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

hIBMSl 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

NOV  1 4  1962 

LD  21-50m-12,'61 
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General  Library 

University  of  California 

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